


Journey to Alaska

by Bearslayer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: A fix-it but not, Abandonment, Angst, Arson, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Completed, Cunnilingus, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, F/F, Face Sitting, Field Medic Villanelle and noisy baby Eve, Fingering, Introspection heavy, Just a couple of ladies being gay and doing crimes, KE Week Prompt; Eve Saves Villanelle in chapter 15, Mental Illness, Not much of a slow burn, Original Druggy Character, Panic Attacks, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Theft both big and small, There will be stupidity, Vaginal Fingering, Villanelle and Eve both being bad at emotions, Will I ever write a chapter where Villanelle doesn't proposition Eve? No., mentions of drug use, self mutiliation, self-injury, showering together, tags to be added with chapters, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 86,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: In a universe where the only thing different is that Villanelle didn't take the gun from the car, the two embark on a journey across the globe, searching for that elusive dream; a place to call home.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 338
Kudos: 638
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	1. ROME; The Ruins of Hadrian's Villa

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm hoping to update this fic weekly until it's wrapped up. The number of chapters is subject to change, but as I have everything pretty much mapped out it shouldn't vary much.
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, the only difference leading to this canon divergence is that Villanelle never found the gun in the car Konstantin gave her in Rome.
> 
> I'm garbage at tagging, so bear with me on that front, and I hope you enjoy.

“I was thinking... We should go to Alaska! Have you seen pictures? It's so amazing. We could, uh... get a cabin? Nobody would bother us there.” Villanelle paused for a moment, turning to face Eve as they walked through the ruins. “We'd be normal. And! I have money! So you don't need to worry about that.”

“Okay...” Eve mumbled, the shock of taking another life still manifesting as a cloud in her mind from which she could not escape. Villanelle went to her, reaching out to take her arm, fingers sliding down to her hand.

“You'll feel better soon... I'll look after you. It's going to be amazing.” Villanelle promised. Though Eve was numb, heart heavy from the act of ultimate violence, Villanelle was elated, practically giddy. Eve had **killed** for her, and now Villanelle would take care of them both. Now that she knew the extent of Eve's feelings for her, she would guide them both to safety. She grinned, pulling away and moving to an open archway. “Come on! Through here.”

“Oh...” Both said at the same moment, taken by the ancient architecture that still stood. The scent of dust and flowers filled her nostrils. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine being there back in its glory days; some warrior assigned to watch over a visiting senator's wife, a warrior who had posed as a man to get closer to her... A beautiful noblewoman whose boring husband did not appreciate her intelligence. She gave a soft noise as she imagined catching the eye of the noblewoman during the nightly revelries, and revealing to her in secret that she was a woman! The scandal of it! Historians would find them buried together and write about what close friends they were... A noise then jarred her out of her mind's eye, and she put her arms up, ready to fight.

She promptly giggled as she identified the noise not as a stranger come to kill them, but just some birds startled by the presence of humans.

“It's just the birds... we're fine.” She mumbled, grinning and moving to Eve to take her hand in earnest this time. It felt soft and right in hers. They were not a killers hands.

“Villanelle...” Eve stared at their hands, blinking slowly. Villanelle moved close to her once again, smiling down at her. She pulled their hands up, kissing Eve's knuckles gently.

“Eve, it's okay. It's hard right now but I promise you it will get better,” She said, “And once we find a place for the night I'll make us dinner, you can have a bath, and in the morning I'll make you breakfast... Then we can leave together. We can be together now, Eve!”

“Won't they find us?” Eve asked, looking up. The upwards curve of her brows always made her look so concerned, accentuated by how large and clear her eyes were. It looked as if she were ready to cry at any moment. Villanelle's heart broke, bringing her other hand up to gingerly, reverently cup her cheek.

“If they do, I will take care of it. I promise that I'll look after you, Eve. No matter what, okay? I need you to believe me. Do what I say and we'll make it through.” Villanelle promised her.

The events of the day had taken a toll on Eve, whereas Villanelle felt lighter than air. Her thumb stroked over Eve's cheek as she watched her, smiling as her eyelids slowly closed. Still holding her hand, Eve moved closer, other arm tucked between them, and rested her head against Villanelle's chest. It surprised Villanelle but she was so thirsty for any sort of affection from Eve that she took it at face value. Eve wanted to be held, and she was there to hold her. She pulled her in, letting Eve take comfort in the closeness, happy to provide it. She would shelter Eve from anything that came near, with her own body if she had to. Eve was hers now, and no one would take her away. She let go of her hand just to wrap both arms around her, pressing her bloodstained cheek into those beautiful curls, closing her own eyes and reveling in the way her heart raced at the contact.

That's how Villanelle knew she loved Eve. For such a gentle touch to move her heart was so foreign to her. It was almost holy in her eyes, the things she felt for Eve. They were real and intense in a way that nothing else ever was. When she took someone home for sex it was just a way to pass the time, to fill some basic need to feel the heat of another against her. She felt nothing with them except quick, filthy, forgettable orgasms. She had grasped pieces of feeling when she was with Anna, fleeting bits of purpose that she followed into obsession, but with Eve there was a connection far deeper. She felt it in what she could only assume was her soul; it was a concept as close to God as she would ever believe in. Offerings of blood had been made, and their bond was etched in stone. For a few moments she just held Eve there, delighted in the way their bodies slotted together. They were meant to hold one another.

“You okay now, baby?” Villanelle asked softly, pulling back just a little to look at her face.

“Yeah... sorry. I just-” Eve started, then shook her head. “... Thanks.”

“For what? The hug?” Villanelle's brows furrowed slightly as she reached out to tuck her hair back behind an ear.

“Yeah. The hug.” Eve frowned slightly, shaking her head. “Why the hell am I thanking you for a hug? Jesus Christ. Let's get out of here, huh?”

“To be fair, it was a good hug. And it's nice to be appreciated, so...” Villanelle grinned, flooded with joy to hear her speak more than a word or two since Raymond was dispatched. Eve gave a scoff, moving to walk at her side rather than trailing behind or moving past her.

“You're full of yourself.” Eve muttered sourly, though there was no irritation or malice on her face. Villanelle beamed a grin, taking her arm.

“I'm just happy.”

“Happy?” Eve looked to her.

“Yes... we're gonna run away together.” Villanelle reminded her, as if she could have forgotten in such a short time. Eve frowned, eyes lowering as they walked.

“Are we? How far do you think we're going to get with the Twelve after us? What about Niko, and my job, and my **life** , Villanelle?” She asked. The panic was evident in her voice.

Villanelle paused and moved in front of her, bringing her hands to her cheeks once more. She stared into her eyes for a moment, searching, briefly scared that Eve would hesitate or prove her feelings wrong somehow. Then she smiled. She had spent her whole life picking out the emotions of others by tones of voice and micro-expressions in order to try and understand them (and to be able to manipulate, when she needed), so it wasn't hard to see on the always laid-bare face in front of her that Eve was just scared. No hesitation; just fear interlaced with confusion and a hint of... excitement? The last one came as no real surprise. Eve was a thrill seeker, after all.

“We'll escape them, Eve. So long as I have you, I can beat them. I will never let them take you from me.” Villanelle's thumbs stroked the apples of her cheeks. She was happy just to be able to hold her face, to express the tenderness she felt for her in some small way. She wanted to kiss her, but would wait for that. The trauma of a first kill would weigh heavy on her for a time, like it did with most people. Villanelle did not recall feeling such pain when she made her first kill; only a great emptiness that she taught herself to associate with satisfaction through training. To “take pride in a job well done”, as Dasha would always try to drill into her head. Thoughts of the old woman who taught her to kill made her anxious and angry in a way she knew she might never fully understand.

“Do you promise?” Eve asked, eyes full of tears.

Villanelle nodded, leaning in to place a kiss to her forehead. She held her lips there for a moment, eyes closed, allowing herself the moment to enjoy the feel of her lips against Eve's skin. When she pulled back, there was a confident smile on her lips.

“I promise.”

“And... I don't want to kill again. I don't know if I could.” Eve said, fingers curling into Villanelle's shirt. It was an unconscious thing that she did it, but it felt possessive enough that Villanelle was charmed by it.

“... You sure? You're pretty good at it. You wouldn't have to use an axe every time. I could get you a gun. A little one, you could look like a Charlies Angel!” Villanelle offered, helpfully, grinning.

“Villanelle! I'm being serious!” Eve smacked her chest lightly.

“Sorry, sorry. I was too, but sorry.” Villanelle couldn't wipe the grin from her lips. “You won't have to. If somebody needs to be killed, I'll do it. I want you to be happy.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Eve nodded. The motion of her nod caused a curl to fall into her face, and Villanelle gently pushed it back.

“Now... I had a car back in the city, but I left it...” Villanelle mumbled, taking Eve's hand again to cart her outside of the ruins. Eve did not protest.

“You had a car?”

“Mm. Konstantin came around and gave me one... he wanted me to leave you behind. I had brought it to the block next to the hotel, but we couldn't leave in that direction.” Villanelle frowned, looking off into the middle distance. She could see only one road leading away from the ruins, and deep verdant fields past that. She wondered if Alaska had fields like that.

“Carolyn wanted me to leave you behind. To pin everything on you and, and...” Eve began, starting to stammer.

“Eve – we're together now. Don't think about it or it'll make it harder for you to run with me, okay?” Villanelle squeezed her hand lightly, moving in to put an arm around her waist again, as she had done at the hotel.

“God, she sounded like a disappointed parent. Like she didn't approve of my new boyfriend or something.” Eve shook her head, leaning on her for stability as they walked. Villanelle wheezed a laugh, nodding rapidly.

“So did Konstantin!” She deepened her voice and accent to mimic the man. “What if she already went with Carolyn! What is it about her?”

Eve gave a soft laugh of her own, clearing her throat and putting on the worst British accent imaginable, nasally and posh. “She wouldn't do the same for you!”

“God, what assholes.” Villanelle giggled, walking them through an archway and into the world once more.

“They really are.” Eve agreed, looking to her as they walked towards the road. “Villanelle, how are we going to get anywhere? The rooms had been cleared out when I went back to the hotel... I'm positive Carolyn has my passport and everything. I don't even have a phone – I mean, not that I'll need one right now since everyone is going to assume the worst.”

“There's more ways to travel than just by plane, you know. I can get us passports as long as we can get to Paris. We can take the train there.” Villanelle told her.

“Don't we need ID for that, though?”

“In theory, but since we're going from one Schengen Area country to another it might only be spot check – you know, just a guy coming along to see if we're holding passports... As long as we get on the train, I think it should be okay.” Villanelle reassured.

“... Have you done this before?”

“I've traveled without my passport a bunch of times. Sometimes things happen, you now?” Villanelle assured her.

“Oh god, this is a stupid idea. We're doing a stupid thing, Villanelle, aren't we?” Eve began to panic a little again, hand moving to hold Villanelle's at her side. Clinging, really. Villanelle gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Oh yeah. But it's gonna be so fun.” Villanelle promised.


	2. ITALY: Some Rich Asshole's Villa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle find a place to recover for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the fic so far. Let me know if I should upload more than once a week. If you're enjoying it, I encourage all comments. I love receiving them and they always make me want to write more. 
> 
> Thanks! :D

“God, look at it. Somebody really lives here?” Eve asked, staring up at the house.

“It's probably a vacation house for some rich asshole.” Villanelle shook her head. “They probably come here for two weeks out of the year and pay a staff to come in before they come to stay to clean the dust... I bet you anything it's empty.”

“And you want to break in.” Eve looked to her.

“Look how pretty it is... I bet you whoever owns it has a mistress with a pretty wardrobe in there we could use...” Villanelle looked to her companion, trying to entice her.

“I thought we were... going to camp somewhere, or something.” Eve mumbled.

“I bet they have a **really** nice shower and a super comfortable bed. Come on, Eve, we need to rest. Don't you want to do it in style?” Villanelle nudged her with her hip, grinning. Eve groaned her hesitation, shifting on her feet. They ached from the running, the walking, and the general terror that the day had held. Plus, the sun was beginning to set.

“It's the off season, no one really vacations out here this time of year. It gets rainy and cold and kind of shit, so... come on. I don't see any cars here, and the grass is overgrown, so I bet no one is here, really. I'll look through the whole place before anything and make sure it's clear.” Villanelle moved in front of her, taking both hands.

“It won't have a security system to keep out squatters?” Eve asked, ever paranoid.

“You think I don't know how to disarm a security system?” Villanelle returned with a scoff. The truth was that she had no idea how, but Eve seemed to think her skill set was something out of a some movie where an assassin knew how to do literally everything. Not that she didn't plan to use the assumption to make herself look better in Eve's eyes.

“... Well, it **is** getting dark out and I'm exhausted. I'm too old for all this running around.” Eve muttered. Villanelle frowned heavily at her, making sure she saw her displeasure in the comment.

“Oi! You aren't old. You're sexy. And if you get too tired for running I'll put you over my shoulder and run for us both.” She insisted.

“That's... the most stupid and weirdly romantic thing I think anyone's ever said to me.” The look in Eve's eyes softened, shoulders going slack, head tilted slightly. “... Alright, fine. Go see if it's safe in there, I guess. But if there's someone in there and we have to run, I'm holding you to that statement.”

Villanelle broke into another grin, pulling her hands away to give a clap. She took Eve by the shoulders, walking her backwards, making her sit down on a stone bench in the corner of the garden they had wandered into. “Okay – you wait here. Rest your feet, I'll be right back.”

Eve plopped down on to the seat, stretching her legs out in front of her. Villanelle still had plenty of energy, but would take her time sweeping the house for Eve's peace of mind. She was just about positive that there was no one there, but from that point on there would be no more half measures about safety. When it came to herself, she didn't care, but it was no longer just her. It was her and Eve. She was responsible for keeping Eve safe because she was the reason she was in danger to begin with. Their lives were intertwined irrevocably, a red string wound around their arteries. When they were too far apart, it was like Villanelle was being cut apart from the inside.

Making her way up the hill the villa was perched on, Villanelle kept her head on a swivel. While she was positive the place was empty, she could never be too sure. And though she had stamina to spare, she didn't know how long she would be able to carry Eve in a literal sense if it came to it. She was sure that Eve probably weighed next to nothing, so she estimated she could get a good mile out if she could get her in a fireman's carry. The terrain in the area was fairly level to boot. She blinked as she realized she had gotten into the house while her mind was stuck in a tangential scenario, and was pleased to find that her entry was not met with any alarms or flashing lights. She whistled her relief, looking around the kitchen she had wandered into. It was large, beautiful, and very traditional, as Italian kitchens went. Old, but updated relatively recently by the looks of it, with gray stone walls juxtaposed by a kitchen island with a built in sink and modern appliances still chrome, barely touched. There were plates hung on the walls with intricate filigree and lace designs that looked more French than Italian.

She went to check the stove to see if the gas was working, and grinned as sparked a few times and then lit. Turning it off, she licked her lips and moved to the pantry tucked into the side of the room, moving into it and looking around. There wasn't much in it; dried pastas, a bag of flour, some canned vegetables. There was a thin layer of dust in it, indicating that it hadn't been used in some time. Villanelle picked up a can of whole peeled tomatoes and squeezed it, glad to find that there was indication of damage on it. She could definitely make a sauce with it! She was determined to make Eve spaghetti, to provide her some of the comfort she had promised. There was an overgrown garden out back that might have some herbs she could scrounge up if there were no dried ones to be found elsewhere in the kitchen. Gathering the ingredients into her arms, she deposited them on the counter for later, looking around again.

There had to be a wine cellar. Every place like this had a wine cellar, and every vacation house in Rome's owner had to keep it stocked to try and impress their shitty rich friends. She had been in the company of enough of those sorts of people to know they were all the same. They all had the same habits, they all had the same types of friends, and they all had the same dark secrets that they hid. While she had dabbled in their world, Villanelle never truly belonged there despite the freedom her occupation seemed to afford her. She had her spent years constantly monitored by the Twelve. They controlled her money, her movements, her life, a malicious benefactor who would give her the world so long as she did everything she was told. Since Villanelle had decided to stop doing what she was told, they would be after her like a cancer, destroying whatever they could touch, trying to rob her of the true freedom she sought.

Part of her thought she should be worried that Eve would grow to resent her for having to leave everything behind... but she figured that if she gave Eve everything she needed, why would she? Niko was no prize compared to her; whatever he gave to her, Villanelle could top it. She would give her a better life. She could study all the female killers in the world, and Villanelle would provide for her in every way she needed. She certainly knew she could fuck her better than Niko after seeing him take her advice to heart about how to do it right. Villanelle bit her lip as she pictured it, letting her eyes slip shut for a moment at the memory. She had stood in the rain that night but the cold never touched her as she watched them fuck in their cramped little sitting room. Niko's fumbling, forgettable attempts at domination, and Eve just begging for it, relishing even the hamfisted efforts of her stupid husband. The way Eve's nails raked over his back as her own arched had made Villanelle imagine she was there instead, that it was her making Eve whimper and plead for release. Not that she really **had** to beg, because Villanelle would give it to her so many times that she would forget how to walk. When Eve was ready, Villanelle would give her anything she wanted. Recalling the sight of Eve naked and in the throes of passion made Villanelle's heart pound in her chest, heat pooling in her belly. The memory of the encounter with Hugo began to filter in; the sounds of Eve moaning directly into her ear...

“Stop it!” She muttered to herself, taking a deep, slow breath and her head a rough shake. “You're like a teenage boy, I swear to God.”

The kitchen did not offer a response.

Fidgeting her hips a little, Villanelle huffed, looking down at herself. That little jaunt down memory lane and detour down imagination avenue had caused a very physical response that she didn't have time to address. She moved to the sink, running the water and leaning her head down. She let the cold water practically drown her until she could shut down the part of her brain that was apparently devoted to being horny for Eve at inopportune times. It took a moment or two, and when she pulled away with a gasp she shook her head quickly to flick the water out of her hair.

“Get it together. She's waiting. Don't make her worry about you.” She mumbled, pushing her hair back.

Her own statement gave her pause. She wondered if Eve would actually worry if she took too long and come rushing in like she had earlier that day. Biting her lip and grinning at the still fresh memory, she gave a giddy little hop before going to check over the rest of the house. As vacation homes went, it was standard. It was overly decorated in a way that indicated the owners were not Italian but wanted an artificially 'authentic' feel by blending classic Italian styles and far too many chachkis. There were signs of recent renovations to the front room, and new furniture that would end up antiquing itself with time and the neglect of once a year use. Whoever owned it must have let their amateur interior designing wife or lover have their way with the place.

Despite her reservations about the design job, it was a big, empty home with a warm bed, working water, and no humans in sight. It was perfect to shield them from their troubles for the night. Moving back down the stairs and out the back door, she went to the bench where she had left Eve to find her instead sitting on the ground. Her eyes were closed and she leaned against the bench, breathing slow and deep. She was too upright to be asleep. Perhaps the ground with its overgrown grass was just more comfortable. Villanelle moved to her side and knelt down, watching her for a moment. She was reminded of Paris; her old apartment, champagne, and a scar in her gut that still ached from time to time. Villanelle had no sore feelings about the wound. Quite the opposite, in fact.

In a strange way, she viewed the scar as something of a gift. It was a permanent reminder of Eve. Some people got tattoos of their lovers names or faces, or wore lockets with some memento of them in it. The scar was something far more unique and abstract, which made her treasure it all the more. The times when it would still throb were made more tolerable by the memory of Eve it brought up, of laying side by side and gazing into one anothers eyes. Sure, the subsequent stabbing was unexpected and she had been justifiably angry, but that had long since faded. Maybe she had spent the better part of her healing process swearing that she would find a way to haunt Eve even if she died, but who wouldn't?

“Why are you staring at me?” Eve mumbled, opening one eye.

“I have an appreciation for fine art. Can't I appreciate the finest of them all?” Villanelle grinned.

“... Was that a line?” Eve opened both eyes.

“Depends; did it work?” Villanelle watched her expectantly. Eve rolled her eyes.

“You're ridiculous. Is it all clear in there?” Eve asked, avoiding the question.

“Hmm, so it did work and you're too embarrassed to say, huh? Well, come on. Let's get you inside and out of those clothes.” She hopped to her feet and offered her hands to Eve, who took them to pull herself up.

“Out of my clothes? It wasn't **that** good of a line.” Eve laughed. Villanelle loved her laugh; it was brash and sharp and exploded out of Eve like the blast of a .22 every time. It was exhilarating and made her want to laugh too.

“I've got others. We'll get there.” Villanelle grinned, slipping an arm around her waist to bring her up to the villa.

“Does the water work? I really need a shower.” Eve asked, allowing herself to lean on Villanelle as they walked, taking comfort in the touch.

“It does, but there's not a shower. Just a bath. The tub is really pretty, one of those old claw-foot ones.” Villanelle informed her, bringing her in through the kitchen.

“Ohh, I love those... I'm not opposed to a bath. Cute kitchen. Not sure why those plates are hung up, though. They don't even look Italian.” Eve mumbled.

“Right? Wait til you see the living room. I think someone tried to design this themselves and just... aren't good at that.”

“I mean, I'm not really a design oriented person, more utilitarian – well, you know that, you were in my house – but I can certainly judge others choices.”

“That's okay, I can do designing for our cabin. Maybe every room could be a different style... how do you feel about the stairs? Are you too tired to go up them? I could put you on my back.” Villanelle offered.

“No, I can manage. Different styles for every room? Like what, the kitchen is like that one but the bedroom is more like – I don't know. More like your bedroom in Paris, maybe? I'm bad at imagining it. This is still so surreal.” Eve paused before they hit the stairs, looking up at Villanelle.

“We have plenty of time to think about it, yeah? For now... I'll show you where the bathroom is, then I'll make dinner, then we can sleep. Sound good?” Villanelle offered. There was a brief pause as Eve bit her lower lip a little too hard, worry permeating throughout her expression.

“You're being so... caring.” She looked up again, the concern in her eyes making Villanelle pout.

“Do you think I'm faking it or something? I want you to be happy. I want you to be happy with **me** and to be comfortable and... to feel like you made the right choice.” Villanelle said the last part softly, as if hoping Eve wouldn't really hear it and get the idea that she maybe shouldn't be confident in them as a duo. She averted her eyes as she spoke, not wanting to see any hesitation in Eve's eyes.

“I don't think you're faking. I think it's... actually really nice. I didn't expect it, that's all.” Eve was the one to move in front of Villanelle this time, getting close enough to catch Villanelle's downturned eyes without physically adjusting her head. It was a bit like a cat moving in front of the spot where their humans attention was focused so they could return to being the center of it. Villanelle furrowed her brows at her.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Making you look at me.” Eve said plainly.

Villanelle gave a snort and then, on impulse, bent down and wrapped her arms around Eve's thighs, lifting her up over her shoulder. Eve yelped but didn't fight being lifted, wrapping her arms around Villanelle's torso from behind for added stability. She was right; Eve weighed practically nothing.

“Oh my god, what is **wrong** with you!?” Eve squeaked, holding her tight. Villanelle laughed and began up the stairs, holding on to the railing.

“I'm bringing you upstairs for a bath, why do you ask?” Villanelle said, as casual as if she were walking hand in hand with her.

“Jesus. You're very strong... You shouldn't manhandle people like this though...” Eve muttered. Villanelle couldn't help her chest swelling with pride as she scaled the stairs. She could swear she felt Eve's fingers fan out just a bit to test the tightness of her abdominal muscles, but couldn't confirm visually while focusing on climbing.

“Yeah? I think you like it. You can admit it to me.” She teased.

“No I don't! It's... rude.” Eve said weakly. “Just hurry up and put me down.”

“Okay, okay. Here, use your tired feet then.” Villanelle laughed, kneeling when she reached the top of the stairs to let her down. She vowed to revisit the thought another time, when they were safe somewhere.

“Thank you, you fucking brute.” Eve laughed, looking around the upstairs.

“Any time, baby. Bathroom is right through there. You go and have a bath, I'll get dinner ready for us.” Villanelle told her, giving a cheeky wink.

“I could get used to you being so doting, I think.” Eve remarked.

“Stay with me, then.”

Eve looked like she was considering it for a moment, eyes lowering as they stood there. When she looked back up to meet Villanelle's gaze, she was smiling.

“Where else would I go?”


	3. ITALY: Some Rich Asshole's Villa (Nightfall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle discuss their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again; it's Friday where I live, so here's another chapter.
> 
> If you're reading along, I would really appreciate comments. I love hearing what people have to say about my work.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bathing and dinner were both quiet affairs aside from Villanelle's soft giggling at the sight of Eve in an oversized robe meant for what they could only assume was for the very burly owner of the house. Conversation was minimal and light, with Eve complimenting the spaghetti and Villanelle replying with a compliment about Eve's face (to which she received a roll of the eyes and an inward smile). They both ate more than they normally would, since neither had eaten much that day and the stress had depleted their energy almost entirely. They washed it down with a bottle of red so old the label was unreadable. Well, Villanelle washed it down with the wine; Eve only had a glass and a half before switching to water, citing a tendency to get sulfate headaches.

It all felt so **normal.**

It felt like she was having a quiet night in with her wife of many years after a long day. A serene meal where they sat across from one another but leaned in a little closer so the distance didn't seem so great. Eve had even leaned over at one point to brush a bit of sauce from the corner of Villanelle's lips with a napkin. She was excited to see some day if she were actually a doting partner or if the bizarre situation had warped her behavior in some way. If it weren't for the flecks of dried Raymond blood that still clung to Villanelle's cheek, or the fact that they were now on the run from the world's most powerful string-pulling shadow organization, she would have been happy to keep the illusion up as long as possible. She would have lived in that strangers house with its unkempt garden and too many bedrooms/not enough bathrooms for months if Eve had not decided to broach the topic of what was next once dinner had been eaten.

“So, you definitely think we'll be able to get to Paris without our passports, right? And in a way that doesn't involve us running on foot or stealing a car that would inevitably tip off the people after us? Then what, once we're there? We can't take a plane, not with the way they screen people nowadays.” Eve asked. It burst out of her in one breath, like it was trying to escape before Eve could prevent it from ruining the moment. Villanelle rolled her eyes, upending the rest of the wine into her mouth, licking her lips.

“Don't you trust me?” Villanelle asked, incredulous. It concerned her that Eve wouldn't accept her lead on the matter.

“That's a loaded question.” Eve muttered. Villanelle gave an offended gasp, putting a hand over her heart.

“Eve! Why are you doubting me now? There's no reason for you to be paranoid.” Villanelle pouted at her in genuine offense.

“... Villanelle, don't try to gaslight me. I'm not going to deal with that, not from you. Yes, I'm paranoid, but I have a right to that. I **killed** someone today and I.... I'm leaving everything behind. We're going to be chased by people who want us dead, and I have every right to be curious as to how you plan on protecting **me** like you said you would when **I** was the one who had to save you today!” Eve stood up from her stool, the flood of emotion pouring from her wild and a little intimidating. If she wasn't wearing that huge bathrobe Villanelle might have even been nervous. Instead, she was confused by the outburst. They were together now, and together they could accomplish anything they needed, right? That was what couples did. They persevered. They made each other stronger. With Eve's trust and love she could carry them anywhere; it would make her powerful.

“If we're together and you – and you believe in me, then I can do whatever I need to do to keep you safe.” Villanelle mumbled it, resolve cracking under Eve's volume.

“That isn't an answer, Villanelle. I'm not some... some fucking damsel in distress that needs you to keep her in the dark about your grand plans. You need to see me as an equal. I'm not just going to follow your lead everywhere, especially if I think it's going to jeopardize both of us, and if you can't accept that then this isn't going to work.” Eve was forceful with her words; or at least that's what it felt like when they hit Villanelle in the chest. Her hastily crafted confidence, her hard won sense of pride, both were so easily wounded when it came to Eve. It would come as no surprise on later examination that rather than conceding to her demand, Villanelle felt her feet hit the ground and her body raise up to tower over her, face contorting into a scowl. This was how she defended herself, how she concealed her more complicated emotions, the ones she didn't understand and didn't want to acknowledge. Like a threatened bird puffing out its feathers, she was ready to fight to keep her place in Eve's life. Even if she had to fight Eve herself for it.

“You need to trust me, Eve. I'm going to protect you – you're mine now!” She insisted, foot stamping the stone floor like a petulant child. Eve's head reeled back a little, as if struck.

“Do you hear yourself right now? Do you think that you own me because of this? Because you don't. And if you think that's what this is, then I'll leave right now to prove you wrong.” Eve said, beginning to back away from her.

“You can't.” Villanelle snapped, moving to close in on her. Her movements were automatic, her brain full of the static that came whenever her emotions started to boil over. Her many internalized fears collided within her, creating a swirling miasma that shut out logical thought and gave birth to aimless anger, because she had never learned how to handle them without violence. Moving toward Eve kept her focused in the storm, gave her focus. If she lost that focus, she might black out... and she had never woken from a dissociative fugue without blood on her hands. She couldn't hurt Eve like that. She would never forgive herself.

“Yes I can, and the sooner you understand that, the sooner I can trust you the way you want,” Eve countered, voice not losing its volume or power despite the concern written on her face, “Villanelle, don't come at me like that.”

“You can't leave me! I love you!” Villanelle insisted, voice cracking, not heeding Eve's wish. The concern drained out of Eve's face, replaced by something she couldn't quite parse in her mind, not with the static trying to drown her.

“You don't understand what love is if you're trying to use it as a weapon, V – that isn't what it's supposed to be!” Eve protested as she backed into the wall. But Villanelle could no longer hear her, couldn't see, couldn't –

Her face jerked to the side as a sharp pain bloomed across her cheek. Her vision cleared in time to see the other hand raising to slap her again, and she gave a noise, bringing her own hands up to grab Eve's wrists and pin them to the wall. Eve sunk her shoulders a little when Villanelle met her eyes, like an animal trying to make itself look small and submissive. Villanelle knew she was anything but that, though, and left her pinned, fingers squeezing Eve's wrists.

“You slapped me!?” Villanelle barked, even as the veil of rage completely dissipated.

“You were in shock?” Eve offered, mirroring what Villanelle had told her early that day, giving a little smile.

“I...” Villanelle's voice broke again, and she felt a lump forming in her throat as the realization of what she could have done began to hit.

“You had a wild look in your eyes. I'm not scared of you anymore, V... and I want this to work. But you can't do that. You can't try to intimidate or manipulate me into doing what you want.” Eve told her, voice now soft and gentle, soothing. The shortening of her alias was new but familiar. It left Eve's lips much more easily than 'Villanelle' did. The way she said it made her feel a warmth inside that crept around her heart, chipping away at the barriers that life had erected around it. They were meant for familiarity, not formality.

“I... I'm sorry, Eve. I.” She mumbled, letting her head drop in shame. She was suddenly exhausted, like the short argument had pulled the strength from her body. The shame was no act, and she hated the way it felt. It coated her nerves in a way she had never experienced, a way that made her horribly uncomfortable.

“Look at me, Villanelle.” Eve said. Her grip on her wrists had loosened entirely, but she hadn't moved her hands. Eve did that for her, sliding her hands down to where Villanelle's were and taking them. She could feel Eve's fingers threading between hers and chose to focus on the ease in which they found their spots. She lifted her eyes above Eve's face to look at their hands. The gentle contrast in skin tone, the thinness and shortness of Eve's fingers compared to hers. Her nails were unkempt, bitten short and jagged in places, where Villanelle's had been recently manicured and were still neat. She imagined Eve hard at work on some case, chewing her nails down to the quick without even noticing, hair wild about her beautiful, tired face.

“V.” Eve mumbled. “Look at me.”

Villanelle blinked slowly, snapping herself from the daydream to look down at her face as first instructed. She gave a soft, fond smile.

“Sorry. I want to paint your nails sometime...” She replied, unaware of how inappropriate the change of topic was.

“I need you to focus on what I'm saying, Villanelle. Please.” Eve plead, pulling their hands down from the wall, stepping in close and looking up at her. She had a knack for standing so close that it made it difficult for Villanelle to think coherent, non-sexual thoughts, but she did as told and blinked hard, nodding.

“Sorry. Sometimes I – I go off somewhere, in my head.” She explained. “I'm sorry I...”

“Hey. Stop apologizing. I don't want apologies, I want understanding.” Eve said, pulling one hand away to bring to her cheek. The motion made Villanelle's eyes slip shut, cheek pressing into it.

“Tell me again. I don't think I could hear you before.” Villanelle's voice was small, exhaustion evident in her demeanor.

“You have to listen to me, because I can't repeat myself again. Okay?” Eve said, thumb stroking over the apple of her cheek. Villanelle remained quiet, opening her eyes and giving a little nod. She was unaware that her eyes glistened with tears that would not yet fall.

“Okay. I'm listening. Tell me what I need to do.”

“I just need you to respect me. Get the idea that you... own me – throw that idea right in the garbage. No one owns me. I don't even own me half the time, you know?” Eve said, watching her. There was an intense focus in her eyes that Villanelle tried hard to match even though the lethargy she felt was as heavy as a house. “If you want us to be together, and to stay together, that's number one. I won't do your bidding with no question, and I won't accept you trying to force me into compliance. That isn't the way relationships work; not healthy ones.”

“I – I don't know how.” Villanelle stammered.

“Don't know how?” Eve asked, confused.

“I don't know how to do a... a relationship. I don't know how to do it in a good way. I've never had that. I want to be happy with you, Eve. I don't want to ruin it and make you hate me.” Villanelle, for the first time in ages, actually expressed a fear that she would much rather repress. She did it for Eve, to make her understand what she was in for. Villanelle was a woman who was emotionally stunted. One who would die for her, but would put herself in situations that made that more likely than it would be otherwise. Someone who was profoundly, deeply broken, and whose significant relationships always ended in death and suffering. Before she could descend too far into the mire of self-doubt/pity/hatred that she kept locked away deep in her soul, though, she felt herself being pulled out rapidly.

Eve had leaned up to place the most gentle of kisses to her lips. Eve knew she wasn't faking this, that what she was seeing from Villanelle was real. The affectations she put on for everyone else, the disguises she wore to get close to targets, the obnoxious swagger she insisted on carrying herself with in public – none of it was as real as what she showed to Eve. She had poured the contents of her heart into her hands and offered it to Eve for judgment, to do with what she pleased. And Eve, in her infinite kindness and wisdom, had slid her hands over top to protect it. She accepted the ugliness in her. Villanelle was overwhelmed now, a stark contrast to the way their day had gone, and she broke into a sob at the feeling of Eve's lips on hers.

“It's okay, baby. I'll teach you how.” Eve said against her, voice so, so gentle.

“You deserve better...” Villanelle mumbled, bringing her hand to slide around the back of Eve's neck, holding her close. She felt Eve squeeze her other hand.

“You don't get to decide what I deserve, V.” She told her – an assessment that Villanelle chose to accept. It was either a praise for her or an admonishment for herself, but she had to agree. She had to be better, she had to listen and accept when Eve spoke.

“Okay. I'll be good.” She smiled a little, bridging the minuscule distance between their lips to kiss her again. She never wanted to stop kissing her.

“No you won't. But that's one of the things I like about you, I think.” Eve teased, thumb brushing away the tears that had spilled when they kissed.

“I can be very, very bad.” Villanelle agreed, nodding.

“Don't I know it.” Eve shook her head a little, then pulled back to look at her. She took a moment to brush away the tear trails that had formed on Villanelle's cheeks.

“This isn't going to be easy, you know... If – if you want to leave, you can.” Villanelle conceded, the statement a far cry from what she had shouted at her just moments before.

“I don't want to go anywhere without you, V. Don't you get that? This is my choice. I **chose** you and I burned my life down behind me for that choice. If you're going to doubt anything, don't let it be me. You want my trust, give it to me in return – trust me when I tell you things, because I'm a terrible liar and I'm really, really bad at hiding my emotions so you know I'm not fucking with you.” Eve smiled at the concession.

Villanelle snorted a laugh.

“You really are a bad liar. Your eyes give it all away every time.”

“Yeah, I know. So, how about it? Are you going to trust me? Are you going to let me teach you how to not fuck this up?” Eve said, bringing both hands to her cheeks. Her eyes were sincere and content. “I know it isn't going to be easy because... let's face it, we're both assholes. But I want this.”

Villanelle's eyelids fluttered shut as a slow wave of warmth struck her chest, soothing and beautiful. Eve wanted this. Eve wanted **her**. She wanted this to work, and Eve wouldn't lie to her even if she could. And she was surprised to find that everything that Eve had laid out didn't garner any resistance in her. She felt the spark of something marvelous there. A pinch of hope, the gentle ember of honest to god love was now cradled between their hands. Eve would teach her how to nurture it rather than to snuff it out, to go against the instinct that had been beaten into her to destroy. She gave a little nod to answer, incapable at that moment of speech because of the new feeling.

“Good. Can we go to bed now? I'm exhausted.” Eve wrapped her arms around Villanelle's midsection as she spoke, head resting against her shoulder.

“Yeah, me too. Can we cuddle?” Villanelle asked, pressing her nose into Eve's hair, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in return.

“Only if you take a bath first.” Eve told her, laughing.

“Is it bad?” Villanelle's nose wrinkled a little, grinning.

“Yeah, you kinda stink.” Eve laughed a little harder, though she didn't pull away from the embrace.

“Aww, you'll still kiss me and hug me when I smell bad?” Villanelle's exhaustion was deep, but she couldn't help feeling lighter.

“Don't press your luck. Come on, let's go upstairs.” Eve laughed, pulling away this time. Villanelle didn't let her get too far away, taking her hand.

“Okay. I'm gonna take that bath then... you go lay down and I'll come to you when I smell better. The bed up there is super comfy, it's gonna be hard to get out tomorrow.”

“I found another robe up there – I already put it in the bathroom for you.” Eve admitted.

“Aww. Now who's doting?” Villanelle grinned.

“I just really want you to take a bath, don't get it mixed up.” She scoffed.

Villanelle beamed a grin, choosing not to tease her further about it. When they parted at the bathroom and Villanelle went in to draw the bath, she was able to confirm that Eve was, in fact, also doting on her. It made her giddy to see the things laid out next to the tub. Another big robe and towel, folded nicely, with a bar of soap molded to look like a seashell and a bottle of two and one shampoo/conditioner that was clearly the only thing left in the cabinets. It had some stereotypical masculine name that she didn't bother reading as she drew the bath, just happy to have a way to wash up. By the time she had shed her clothing and stepped into the warm water, she could feel the troubles of the day melting away in the heat. Removing the tie that kept her hair messily in place, she dunked her entire body in and stayed beneath the surface for as long as she could hold her breath. Washing her body was slow and cathartic, and cleaning her hair just as soothing.

She didn't leave the bath until the water was uncomfortably cool. She toweled off and looked at the robe, debating briefly if she should even bother with it. She was perfectly happy to be nude, but Eve had gone to the trouble of finding and laying it out so she put it on. She didn't tie it, though, leaving it hanging open. She was the picture of tired opulence, and getting to the bedroom was even more of a chore. She crawled into the bed behind the already sleeping Eve slowly, careful not to bounce to avoid disturbing her angel, who snored very gently in a way she found so endearing she wanted to kiss her. She shifted up behind her, glad to see Eve on her side and uncovered so she could push their bodies together. Draping her arm over her waist and once again pressing her face against that beautiful mane, Villanelle closed her eyes and was asleep within seconds.


	4. ITALY: Some Rich Asshole's Villa (The Next Day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle struggle to wake up, and discuss plans on how to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, happy Friday. If you're reading along with my updates, I'd love to hear your comments.

In their sleep both made an unconscious vow to entirely ignore the morning hours. Villanelle was the first to wake, the high noon sun peeking in from a crack in the curtains and directing a beam right into her eyes. She grunted softly, squeezing her eyes shut harder and squeezing her arms around the woman who had slept so soundly and still that she didn't appear to have moved at all. There was a bit of evidence to the contrary, though, when she opened her eyes. Eve had squirmed an arm out of her robe during the night, exposing both her arm and her breast on the side Villanelle could see. She couldn't help but look, taking a deep, slow breath at the sight of her. One of Villanelle's legs had slotted between Eve's, their feet tangled together further down the bed... that was when she realized she was completely naked.

She had no recollection of stripping during the night, but was in no way surprised by the fact. She often slept naked, especially if there was another person in the bed with her that she was attracted to. Her attraction to Eve was all encompassing and constant, so it didn't alarm her at all that her unconscious self had the thought to make herself readily available to her, should she decide to bypass all the normal stages of a relationship and go straight from chaste kisses to full on sex. Villanelle's brows raised at the thought but closed her eyes again, shaking her head to try and banish that thought before it progressed. She shifted a little to gently pull her leg from between Eve's, but found it more difficult than it should have been. Her cheeks went the faintest bit pink as Eve squeezed her leg and shifted her hips, pressing her ass against her crotch. Villanelle was suddenly grateful that she didn't have a cock – she could only imagine how out of control her physical responses would be if she did. They were already a bit ridiculous, but it was at least in a way she could hide more readily.

“Eve... baby.” She mumbled, leaning in to place a kiss to her ear. She wanted to let her sleep, but they had a long day ahead of them if they were to get to Paris anytime soon.

Her words were met with a soft, noncommittal noise that came directly from Eve's throat. Villanelle grinned, amused at it. She kissed her ear again, then her cheek, then her jawline. Eve made another few noises as her eyes slowly opened, turning her head to regard her with a half-smile, still half asleep. She was radiant in the soft light of the room, a curl fallen over her cheek, eyes just a little bloodshot, still half-lidded from lingering exhaustion. The sleep had restored them both physically, but the mental fatigue that Eve must have taken on was too heavy for just one round to remedy. Villanelle pulled her hand from around her waist and brought it up to brush away the curl.

“How did you sleep?” Villanelle asked, dragging her other arm out to prop herself up on her elbow, looking down to her. Part of it was selfish; she wanted to bask in the sight of her.

“I feel like I slept for a week. I didn't dream at all, either... I thought sleep would be much harder after...” Eve shifted her hips a little, gently lifting the leg keeping Villanelle's captive. She pulled it away as Eve shifted to lay on her back.

“After becoming an axe murderer?” Villanelle offered, raising a brow.

“That isn't funny,” Eve said, laughing as she did. “... Are you naked?”

“Yeah...” Villanelle pursed her lips, giving a shrug. “I had the robe on when I went to sleep, I promise. I'm not trying to be a pervert.”

“Not consciously, you mean.” Eve teased.

“Says the woman with her tit out who kept pushing her ass into my crotch while she slept.” Villanelle returned easily, raising a brow and demonstratively letting her eyes drift down to the exposed breast.

“Oh, shit.” Eve muttered, pulling the robe over it as she looked down. It was easy to catch her eyes trace a line from her own chest to Villanelle's, and easier still to see how it lingered until she caught herself and blinked. “... Sorry.”

“Eve,” She reached down and took her hand, kissing her knuckles, “You can be a pervert to me any time you want. Even if it's like, a really bad time for it. I'm all yours.”

“Thank you so much. It's an honor.” Eve gave another laugh.

“No need to thank me. I'll have you know I'm a very giving lover.” Villanelle informed her, giving a pleased giggle.

“O- oh.” Eve mumbled, “... I have to pee.”

Before Villanelle could really react, Eve had scooted herself off the edge of the bed and fled the room. Furrowing her brows, Villanelle shifted to sit up, confused by the reaction. Had she come on too strong too early? Or did she really just need to pee? The decision to simply accept it at face value was a necessary one for her to make. With how deeply their relationship had changed the day before, it still felt so fragile. It had been forged in the fires of violence and obsession, but had yet to be tempered by the things that Villanelle assumed went along with a more healthy bond. Respect, tenderness, adoration; all things she felt in spades towards Eve but seemed impossible to express out loud. She was used to being brash, sexual, rude, and invulnerable to outside forces to some degree. Everything else was still foreign, though she had learned to fake the rest over the years. She couldn't fake anything with Eve, though. Not when Eve had chosen her over every other logical choice. Not when Eve saw through her so easily.

Shifting to the edge of the bed, she yawned and stretched wide, then allowed herself to flop backwards on to the bed with outstretched arms. She had predicted getting up would be difficult with pinpoint accuracy. She wanted badly to crawl back to the pillows and bury her face in the jungle of Eve's hair again to sleep for another three days. She didn't want to run, sneak, and scheme. It was all so tiresome. If the danger wasn't so imminent she would suggest they just wait around until it was. They could laze around the house getting to know each other more intimately. They could talk about all the stupid little things you were supposed to talk about with a lover.

Closing her eyes tight, Villanelle brought her hands down and rested them on her belly, absently drawing a finger over the scar that she always drifted to. How long would it take to be free of their hunters? Would it take weeks? Would it be months, or a year? Would they grow weary of flight and, in turn, one another? Her stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought, a frown digging itself into her features. She would have to work hard to make sure that Eve didn't feel regret for her choice. She had to be a better person for her. Everyone in her life had insisted that she could never be something more than what she was created to be, but Eve had seen something buried in her. Something worthwhile. She made a fist against her stomach and opened her eyes. The validation that Eve's choice had given her was enough. She would persist, no matter what, to keep them safe.

She took a heavy breath and exhaled it loudly as she swung her legs off the bed and planted her feet on the plush carpet, clapping her hands to motivate herself into movement.

“Okay, let's see...” She moved to the dressers and wardrobes, flinging every last one open and standing with her hands on her hips. Still fully nude and legs staggered to either side, she declared out loud, “Power stance! Time for clothes!”

She stood at the first of two wardrobes, pawing through it in search of suitable clothing for the two of them. If the robes were any indicator, the man of the house was too large for either of them to conceivably pull off a butch look using his clothing. There had to be something better. He had to have a wife, or a mistress, or even some cute little twink he brought around. No one had a house like the one they were in without someone to bring to it, and there was always extra clothing left at vacation homes. It helped separate it from their normal homes and lives. A disguise they wore when parading about Rome. It was all big coats and dress shirts in the first wardrobe.

The second one was much more promising; it was full of dresses. Villanelle grinned as she thumbed through them, pleased to recognize some cuts, prints and designs that had been en vogue a few years prior. While they weren't her first choices, she had no room to be choosy. The important thing was that they were significantly smaller and more suited to their bodies than the other clothing. She tilted her head as she pulled a particularly colorful piece. The base color was a slightly pastel yellow and it was covered in large white flowers with orange accents and green leaves. It was a wrap dress, split up the side to allow a leg to sneak out, with split sleeves. She smiled, taking it out and tossing it towards the bed to try on, not bothering to watch where it was going.

The next to catch her eye was a much shorter number, dusty blue in color with a plunging neckline. She could already imagine Eve in it, and it was short enough that it wouldn't drag or impede movement. The cool tone would compliment her nicely. She turned to toss it on to the bed with the other, pausing as she saw Eve there, sitting on the bed, watching her. She gave her lower lip a little nibble, wondering how long she had been there. Eve sat with her legs folded, leaning back on her hand, quiet and with a gentle smile on her lips; she didn't say anything as Villanelle caught her eye. It was a struggle not to tease her or hit on her like she normally would; instead, she lifted the dress she hadn't yet put down.

“I think this color would look amazing on you.” She explained. “The stuff we had on yesterday is all pretty gross, I figured...”

“I found a comb. Can I, um... comb out your hair?” Eve asked, lifting the comb to show her. It was a simple one with black teeth and a thin handle.

“You want to comb my hair?” Villanelle said; her tone wasn't teasing, though. She had **meant** for her tone to be teasing, but it had come out soft and small and sort of reverent.

“Is that weird?” Eve frowned, holding the comb in both hands in front of her, as if to hide it in case Villanelle told her it was, indeed, weird.

“No!” Villanelle exclaimed a little too loudly, moving to the bed. She still held the dress to her torso.

“Come here then?” Eve asked, sliding her bottom towards the edge of the bed. She spread her legs, leaving enough room for Villanelle to sit between them. She gave the spot a pat to encourage her over.

Villanelle sat wordlessly, holding the dress in her arms the way a child held a treasured stuffed animal. She barely registered that she was doing so, closing her eyes as Eve began to gather her hair up at her shoulders to attend to it. Her small, precise fingers threaded through it, pausing only when she found a knot or tangle. She didn't pull at it, didn't jerk her head to the side or push it forward. She was so much more gentle with Villanelle than she expected to be treated given her history. She constantly sought out female attention and often received fists, crooked fingers, or rolled eyes in return. Violence, sex, or dismissal were her prize nearly every time, but here Eve was with a simple act of grooming. Was this what caring meant? Was love in little moments so intimate they felt sacred?

“Has anyone ever brushed your hair for you?” Eve asked as she began work with the comb. Sleeping with her hair still wet had made it a mess.

“Yeah... not nice like this, though. They would always – you know. Knock my head around and yank the brush into the tangles.” She didn't name names or mention the times she would be smacked with the head of the brush for not sitting still; she didn't want to dump that on Eve. She didn't specify further, and Eve didn't ask.

“Assholes. I won't do that, okay?” Eve promised as she carefully worked the comb through her hair.

“I trust you.” Villanelle mumbled, letting her head fall back just a bit. She couldn't figure out how Eve wasn't pulling at her head. Even when she brushed her hair she always ended up yanking to break the tangles.

“You'd better. We're in this together.”

“I do.” She insisted, dropping a hand to Eve's leg, stroking her exposed knee.

“Good.” Eve said. “... so, what's the plan for today? We get dressed, eat something, then... what? I know we have to get back into Rome.”

“Mm. I was thinking maybe we go back through the ruins? They're closer than the city itself and we'd get past a lot of the bigger parts that way.” Villanelle opened an eye and peeked back at her.

“No way.” Eve shook her head. “There's only one entrance and exit from those tunnels. It's so humid down there it'll drain all our energy if we have to walk in it for however long it took last time. And they come up right by the hotel – since you left the car there there's a good chance they'll be watching... Don't you think we should avoid it?”

“How would they know about the car? Or the tunnels?” Villanelle blinked.

“CCTV. They had it in the hotel, and up and down the street. We were tapped into it while you were with Peel, guaranteed they have it tapped too.” Eve explained, running her fingers through the newly combed areas.

“Shit. I forgot about that.” Villanelle frowned. She **had** seen the CCTV monitors behind the front desk, but it had slipped her mind. “... We could hitchhike in? Walking would take all day.”

“I've never hitchhiked before...” Eve sounded thoughtful; was she imagining it?

“It's easy. It'd be especially easy if we wore these dresses, too. Walk down the road and wave down the first car with just a man in it and act like we're helpless and he'll bring us anywhere.”

“Really? What if they get suspicious? What if we end up in a car with a rapist, or one of the Twelve's lackies?” Eve frowned, setting aside the comb as she finished up. Villanelle's hair was smooth and tangle free. Eve continued to stroke her fingers through it until Villanelle leaned back further, resting against her and looking up; then she wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was so strange to have such intimacy without it being tangled with sex, to be laying naked against someone she loved without expectations. It was **nice**.

“Men are idiots. They see pretty woman acting like they need them to be big strong men for them, they'll do anything. And if it's a rapist, I'll cut it off him for any person he's hurt before and we'll steal his car. If they're working for the Twelve, same deal.” Villanelle told her.

“The way you casually talk about cutting a man's penis off should be way more unnerving to me,” Eve mused, shaking her head again, “But... what if the person has a bunch of questions?”

“Let me do the talking, then. You are very awkward sometimes.” She pointed out. Eve seemed to give that consideration for a moment, as if she wanted to argue it.

“Yeah, I am.” She finally agreed.

Eve closed her eyes then, resting her cheek against Villanelle's forehead. Villanelle closed her eyes too, just to bask in the moment. Getting out of bed for a second time would be even harder than the first time because neither would make the first move to leave. To do so was to acknowledge the danger of the day they had ahead of them, of the weeks and maybe months it would take to gain freedom from their former lives. It had to happen, but they chose to cling to the moment a little while longer. The silence was broken by both sighing at the same moment, which made Villanelle laugh.

“Okay... we get up now, I guess. This is shit. I don't want to move.” She protested while she moved away, slipping out from under Eve's arm.

“Me neither. But we have to.” Eve sounded very much like she was trying to convince herself.

They heaved an identical sigh after a moment, and stood to prepare for the trip.


	5. ITALY: Via del Pecile, Tivoli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve leave the villa to find transport to Rome. Eve unveils a surprising ability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday.
> 
> Like always, hope you're all enjoying. Please leave a comment if you're enjoying and can, I always appreciate them.

An hour later the pair walked side by side down the strangely quiet road, close enough to bump hips. Villanelle wanted to hold her hand, but resisted; they had to look convincingly lost and straight enough to grab the attention of some well meaning driver. The dresses didn't quite fit either of them, but Eve less so, being the shorter of the two. Thankfully there had been a small sewing kit in a bathroom that Villanelle used to pin the garment properly to make it fit her better. Eve had been impressed that she had the know-how to hem her own clothing, and Villanelle welled up with pride to brag about it. As anticipated, Eve looked stunning in the dress and Villanelle had to force herself not to misbehave. They had only barely kissed, after all. She had to be patient, even if the lack of sexual contact made her worry that Eve wasn't attracted to her physically – a thought she buried down deep to focus on the journey at hand. She had caught Eve looking her up and down more than once, she reminded herself; they were taking it slow, and that was okay. She would be happy with any pace, but everything about this was new to Eve, so slow was what Villanelle expected.

Over Villanelle's shoulder was a bag full of tightly folded clothing and some other necessities she had managed to scavenge from the home; the sewing kit, two bottles of water, a few tampons, a bottle of paracetamol that she hoped wasn't expired, the comb, and a fancy looking fountain pen that could be used for forging signatures or stabbing someone who needed stabbing. Though Villanelle was good at improvisation, it didn't hurt to be prepared. They had seen no cars yet, but she expected it was because the road ended abruptly a ways down; surely a main road would give them better options, and so they were walking towards one.

“I wish we could just call an Uber.” Eve sighed as they walked.

“Here? You can only get the super expensive ones. Taxis are cheaper.” Villanelle told her, laughing.

“Really? I would have figured Uber is everywhere by now.” Eve shook her head.

“The taxi companies had a fit about ride sharing, so you can only get the like, fancy licensed cars and they aren't worth it. And only in Rome and Milan, if I remember right. If we get to the city but not to the train station we can definitely steal a scooter though, they're way easier to get around on.”

“We don't have a phone anyway. Just the kindness of strangers... ugh.” Eve pulled a face, which made Villanelle laugh again and gently bump her hip.

“This is part of why I think Alaska will be so nice... We won't have to deal with many people. The only people who live in Alaska are ones who don't want to be bothered.”

“Is that why you chose it?” Eve asked, looking to her.

“Partly...” Villanelle said, intentionally vague. She loved it when Eve examined her reasoning for things. The way her mind worked, the way she picked things apart when she was curious; Villanelle found all of it endearing.

“Come on. Talk to me. Tell me about it. Why Alaska?” Eve reached over to slide her arm around Villanelle's. Villanelle cleared her throat a little, looking away to conceal her grin at the action. She crooked her arm, feeling a bit like a knight escorting their Lady somewhere by the elbow.

“It's not that complicated, you know. I just always remember seeing it and it's pretty, and it always seemed like a place that you could hide where nobody would ask too many questions about your life.” She was still being evasive, and Eve could smell it.

“There's gotta be more to it than that.”

Villanelle's lip twitched a little. Eve made it so hard to look cool and mysterious. She huffed hard and looked at her.

“Fine. One weekend I had nothing to do so I watched a marathon of that show Ice Road Truckers and I really, really liked the way Alaska looked, okay?” She admitted, pouting at how stupid it sounded.

Eve burst into laughter, pausing in place to hold her stomach.

“Ice Road Truckers? Holy shit, and that's what your decision was based on?!” She practically cackled. Villanelle stopped with her, rolling her eyes and placing an indignant hand on her hip.

“Shut up, it's as good a reason as any! And it was a fun show. I was always hoping their trucks would break the ice, but I guess you can't expect them to show that kind of stuff...” Despite being slightly offended, Villanelle found the laughter infectious, and began to laugh too.

“No, no, I'm not making fun of you for watching it. **I** watched that garbage, and apparently for the same reason. You're always hoping to see someone actually bite it when you watch that stuff... Oh! V! A car!”

There was indeed a car in the distance coming down the main road that ran perpendicular to the one they were on, and Eve took off into a run to try and wave it down. Her dress flicked around her in the breeze, arms flailing about in the air. Villanelle snickered as the car flew past her and Eve responded by flipping the speeding car off with both hands. She walked to catch up with her, slinking an arm around her waist and giving her a gentle side hug.

“Did you see that? What a jerk!” Eve was aghast.

“Eve, if you were driving and saw a crazy lady flopping her arms around at you, would you stop?” Villanelle reasoned.

“Yes! That's how the heroines in horror movies usually get away. What if we were running from a serial killer?” Eve looked to her.

“Put your arms down, crazy lady. I'm basically a serial killer, you know.” Villanelle laughed.

“No, you're an assassin. Were an assassin? Totally different from a serial killer.” Eve put her arms down and looked over her shoulder at her again.

“Is it?” Villanelle asked sincerely, head tilting.

“Entirely. But – let's focus on getting to Rome and getting on a train... I'm more than happy to explain it once we're on a boring 14 hour trip.”

“There's a lot of really pretty scenery, you know. You might not want to talk then.”

“Another car!” Eve was distracted again, arms flinging back up. Villanelle brought her hand up to put one down, giggling softly.

“One arm, baby – you don't want to intimidate them.” She told her gently.

“Sorry.” Eve mumbled, adjusting her pose to look less unhinged. The car slowed but didn't stop. “Fuck!”

“Eve! Relax!” Villanelle laughed, hugging her again.

“Sorry. Maybe we should just see if we can find a car to steal.” Eve looked to her as her arms sank and her shoulders slumped.

“We can do that.” Villanelle agreed. She was sure she could get a car to stop, but wanted to soothe Eve's nerves.

No more cars came down the road as they walked for another half an hour in silence. It was comfortable, more so than Villanelle would have anticipated. When she was alone with someone the idea of silence was oppressive; she had to speak, to keep conversation going so she wouldn't focus on her thoughts and worries. She always needed to keep the other person from asking too many questions by redirecting every chance she got. When she was by herself she could always turn a TV on and watch something to make herself mindless, but when someone was with her there was always the burden of sociability. With Eve, it was different. Everything was different. She calmed something inside of Villanelle that she never knew was unsettled.

A row of houses with cars parked in every drive was the first chance they got to secure transport. It was unlikely any of the owners of the cars or the houses had left them unlocked, much less with the key inside, but Eve insisted on trying. Thankfully it was still midday, and the houses were largely unoccupied, having gone in to work or wherever else using public transit of some sorts to avoid driving in the city. Most of the cars ended up being locked, but one older one had a passenger side door accessible. Eve grinned as she slid into the car without checking around for people.

“Eve! You have to check for people first. You are the least sneaky person I've ever met!” Villanelle mumbled. “I'll keep a look out, I guess... check everywhere for a key.”

“It's fine, no one is around.” Eve mumbled, flicking her hand dismissively. Villanelle shook her head as she leaned on the boot of the car, acting casual, as if she was just enjoying the sun for any passers by. She was thankful no one was around with the amount of noise Eve made while searching inside.

“If it's not there just come on, we gotta move on.” Villanelle said loudly, tapping the back windshield.

“It isn't, but I don't think we need it!” Eve called from in the car. “Get off so I can pop the boot open – see if there's a tool kit back there!”

“A tool kit? What good is a tool kit?” Villanelle asked, moving away from it. The boot was popped, and the contents were a mess, to say the least. Apparently the owner of the car used it as a storage unit. It was full of miscellaneous junk that ranged from a cat carrier to literal garbage. She made a face as she pushed things around, looking for the requested object... she did not find one. She did, however, find a screwdriver and some other instrument – a wrench? A wrench but with a hole on one side? She wasn't sure. Tools were not her forte.

“Anything?” Eve asked.

“Just a screwdriver and this thing.” She held them up.

“Perfect, let me see the screwdriver.” Eve grinned wildly.

“What... What are you going to do?” Villanelle asked, still puzzled as she moved to give it to her.

“We're taking this car.”

“We don't have a key.”

“We don't need one.”

She watched as Eve jammed the flat head into the ignition, switched the car into neutral, and turned it. The car made a clicking noise but did nothing else. Eve licked her lips, tried again, and then pulled the tool out, shifting down to the panel beneath the steering wheel. It took far too long for Villanelle to realize what she was doing.

“... You know how to hotwire a car?” Her voice was an awed whisper.

“Yeah – did you see a flashlight back there anywhere?” Eve asked as she searched for the screws. Villanelle jumped a little in her spot and ran around the back of the car to look.

“No, I don't see one!” She called, eager to help. “How did you learn this?”

“I'll tell you on the train – for now, can you just... Come in here and help me find the screws? Maybe your eyes are better than mine.” Eve asked.

Giving another little excitable jump, Villanelle moved to the passenger side and leaned in. She looked where Eve was looking, bringing a hand out to search that way. She had always been tactile, so finding the screws that needed to be removed was easy. She tapped each one as she found it before leaning out to watch Eve work. She revealed the wiring underneath with ease once the screws were removed, and Villanelle took the panel for her. Eve was always surprising her in some way and she was aching to know how the hell she had learned such a specific skill. Nothing in Eve's history that she had been able to find led her to believe that she would know something so intrinsically unlawful. She had been a good girl, with good parents, who went to a good school and found a good (boring) husband.

It meant that there were plenty of things she couldn't find out about Eve just by stalking her on the internet, as she had when they first met. She couldn't contain her giggle, watching Eve pull bundles of wire from the console.

“What's so funny?” She asked as she sat up, wires in hand that she quickly went to work stripping the ends of.

“Not funny... I'm just excited.” Villanelle grinned, laying her head against the headrest of the other seat.

“About what?” Eve glanced up again, twisting the ends of the stripped wires together and grinning wide as the car's lights and radio came on. Her face lit up in the most adorable way.

“There's so much about you I don't know... I'm excited to learn it, that's all.” Villanelle couldn't keep the affection out of her voice. Eve frowned a little, wrapping the wires carefully with insulation that she ripped from the inner steering column, leaving only a tiny spot exposed.

“What if you end up finding me boring?” She asked. “I know how easily you get bored...”

“Eve. You're hotwiring a car right now. Yesterday you chopped a man to death with an axe for me. You're like, the least boring person to me, okay?” Villanelle assured her.

“I really wish you would stop bringing that up. I'm still processing it...” Eve gave a little pout before returning her attention to another wire.

“Sorry – it just meant a lot to me.” Villanelle grinned, but forced herself to make a mental note of not bringing it up again. She didn't want to put Eve into another fog like she had been in yesterday. She didn't want her to be somewhere far away in her mind where she couldn't reach her. Protecting Eve went beyond physical; she had to shield her from the dark places in her mind, too.

Eve didn't respond, focusing on the wires. Villanelle went silent as well; she was working with live wires now, after all. She bit her lip as she watched the exposed tip of the one in Eve's grasp slowly move to the twisted wires she had. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the touch of the wires brought the engine to life and she let it out with a laugh. What a brilliant woman she had found herself with! She was ecstatic, wide-eyed as she stared at Eve, who looked surprised herself. She looked to Villanelle and laughed, still holding the wires.

“Holy shit. It worked! I can't believe I remembered how to do this...” She leaned in to set the wires back down, taking the starter wire and burying it something Villanelle assumed was non-conductive to avoid a fire.

“I can't believe you knew how in the first place! You're amazing, Eve!” Villanelle waited until the wires were out of her hands to lean in and pull her into a kiss, holding her cheeks, running her thumbs over her cheekbones.

“Oh, stop...” Eve mumbled, hand resting over one of hers, grinning into the kiss.

“Never.” She purred into her lips, refusing to move for the moment. She still reeled mentally with the possibilities; all the things she didn't know, all the things that Eve had to show her, to teach her. All the surprises that were in store. For a brief moment a shadow of worry cast over her excitement. What if Eve ended up thinking **she** was boring?!

No, that was ridiculous. Villanelle was anything but boring. Even when she was being lazy and indulgent she was still better company than the majority. The brief glimmer of worry was replaced by soaring confidence as she felt the most curious little thing; a wetness on her lower lip. Eve had gently, tentatively grazed her tongue over it as the kiss continued. Giving a little grin, she replicated the move, deepening the kiss. A hand slid back into the curly tresses she adored, holding Eve's head where it was. Eve mirrored her movement this time, bringing her hand to the back of Villanelle's head. Eve kneaded her scalp, massaging it, a motion that was both soothing and arousing... She felt her mind begin to switch off in the most delightful way as they kissed – but she forced her eyes open, and to pull back just a little.

“Eve! We have places to be, you perverted woman.” She mumbled, grinning to show that she was teasing. Partially teasing, at least; she was trying to be practical for once in her life. They were sitting in a car that didn't belong to them, that Eve had just hotwired – they couldn't sit there making out, as delightful as the prospect was. She grinned a little harder as Eve laughed, bringing her hands to Villanelle's cheeks and holding them, kissing her again before pulling away.

“Fine. You started it though. Go shut the boot so we can get out of here. You'll have to navigate, I have no idea where we are. Unless you want to drive?” Eve withdrew her hands, smiling.

“I'll drive, it'll be easier.” Villanelle leaned in to kiss her forehead before pulling away and leaving the car to swap sides with her, closing the trunk as she walked. As they moved past one another, Villanelle couldn't help glancing back to look at her ass. She grinned proudly as she realized that Eve was doing the exact same thing, winking lasciviously at her. Eve rolled her eyes back, smirking just a little as she climbed in the passenger side.

“Also? You said I could be a pervert any time I wanted.” Eve seemed to be in a teasing mood as well, snipping at Villanelle as she climbed into the drivers side, adjusting the seat to avoid touching her legs to the wires.

“If you want you can feel me up while I drive.” Villanelle offered, turning to look right into her eyes, grinning cheekily as she watched Eve's eyes widen.

“You'd like that...” Eve mumbled uselessly, clearing her throat.

“Yeah, isn't that the point?” Villanelle furrowed her brows. “Can you move that mirror a little, up like... a centimetre?”

“I have no idea what I was getting at. I think I keep expecting you to be easier to embarrass.” Eve laughed, rolling the window down by hand to adjust the mirror. “Good?”

“I don't think you'll ever be able to, baby, but you can keep trying all you want.” Villanelle checked the mirrors and nodded. “Perfect. Let's go.”

“I'll find a way. Believe me. You'll have something that makes you blush and I'll find it.” Eve vowed as they pulled out of the drive and started towards Rome proper.

“My beautiful detective.” Villanelle smirked, reaching over to take hold of her hand while she steered with the other.

Eve said nothing, simply smiling and squeezing her hand in return. To Villanelle's disappointment, Eve did not take her up on her offer.


	6. ITALY: Roma Termini, Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve tackle their biggest foe to date; the train station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, I'm posting an extra chapter this week because some friends are having a hard time and I want to give them something to be distracted by.
> 
> I'll still post on Friday, don't worry.
> 
> If you're reading along with my updates, feel free to leave me a comment! I appreciate all the ones I get.

Villanelle hated Roma Termini.

“I hate train stations.” Eve echoed her thought as they walked into the bustling station. She held on to Villanelle's arm tightly as they went to lean against a wall.

They had spoken in the car about the course of action they would take in regards to securing tickets; having no money or identification would make it difficult, but Villanelle was confident that she could steal more than enough to purchase their way there. They had to get to Turin first, where they would switch to another high speed train that would bring them directly to Paris. If they ran into issues in Turin, they could switch to bus travel, which was less than ideal but cheaper even if it was slower. She wished plane travel wasn't entirely out of the question, but without real passports it was far too risky to even try.

“Me too.” Villanelle agreed, going into the bag to pull out the light jacket that had been rolled tightly and handing it off to Eve. Her skin was dotted with goosebumps from the air conditioning in the station, unused to having only one layer on.

“Oh, thanks.” Eve smiled, unrolling it and pulling it on. It was large on her small form, but even that seemed to be a relief.

“Mm. When we get to Paris I'll get you clothes that are better for you. You're so tiny.” Villanelle said fondly, looking around. Eve's arm wrapped in hers again, looking with her.

“I used to be way smaller.”

Villanelle furrowed her brows and looked down to her, head tilted.

“ **How**?”

“My metabolism was a lot faster, I think. I was way better about exercising... I also used to eat way be--” Eve started to explain.

“No no no, I mean – how it's possible that you were smaller than this? You must never have eaten, or ate like a rabbit. Wow.” Villanelle cut her off before she dared to continue. She brought a hand to Eve's flat stomach. “You're still very tiny. I think any smaller than this and I would be too scared that I'd end up hurting you.”

“I mean – you're still significantly stronger than I am physically so if you like, punched me I would absolutely be hurt but --” Eve started to explain her reasoning, but Villanelle shook her head.

“Not what I mean. I'm not gonna punch you. I mean, you know. When we end up--” Villanelle smirked, and this time Eve was the one to cut her off.

“Oh – OH. No I'm – I'm... sturdy.” Eve claimed, a soft spray of very light pink coating her cheeks.

“Yeah? That's very good to know,” Villanelle winked at her, “C'mon. The currency exchange is a good place to start. I'm gonna go into one of the little shops and snag some protein bars or something and we can act casual while we look for a mark.”

“A mark? From assassin to petty theft...” Eve smirked.

“Hey, I am a woman of many talents. Don't box me in.”

“No, far be it from me.” Eve laughed as they walked.

“Right over there. Go wait against the wall there, I'll be right back.” Villanelle told her as they came up to the exchange. It was exceptionally busy, the queue backed up nearly to the other side of the terminal. She was glad she didn't have social anxiety or it would be a nightmare to even look at it... Glad until she saw the look on Eve's face denoting that though Villanelle lacked crippling people related anxiety, her companion definitely had at least a little. She frowned a little and placed a kiss to her forehead, taking her hand to lead her to the spot she had gestured to. “Are you okay?”

“I'll be fine.” Eve gave a curt nod.

“That isn't what I asked.” Villanelle placed a hand on her cheek, looking down to her.

“I'm just a little nervous.” Eve admitted, smiling faintly.

Villanelle nodded, reaching back and pulling up the hood of Eve's jacket.

“I'll only be gone a few minutes, okay? Keep up your hood and act like you're taking a break or something. If anyone gives you a look you don't like I'll be in that little shop right there.” Villanelle assured her, running her thumb over her cheek in a way she hoped was soothing.

“Just go, I'll be fine.” Eve smiled, patting her hand and leaning back against the wall. She pulled the hood over a little more, making sure her hair was all gathered inside the jacket to better mask herself.

To the shop Villanelle went, burrowing into introspection for the few moments she was away from Eve. She contemplated how deeply she had fallen for her already, how nearly absurd it seemed to think of. It was no longer the infatuation that had gripped her the first weeks of knowing her, where she delighted in Eve's obsession with finding her. It had blossomed into something so soul-consuming and beautiful that it had changed her at the core. No – it hadn't changed her. It had brought out things that had been buried long ago, feelings that she never acknowledged... a conscience she thought she had killed in her youth. She couldn't remember the last time she acted so **considerate** of someone else's feelings. All she could think about was Eve, about how she felt, about protecting her, keeping her, bonding with her.

The shop was as crowded as the rest of the terminal, so walking out with a couple of meal bars took no more effort than entering the store. No one gave her a passing glance; she was used to people assuming she was no threat. It was to her benefit almost every time, a privilege granted by her appearance. The pretty pale blonde in a pretty yellow dress. She often wondered how people would react to her if they knew what she was. Well, she used to – since she and Eve had finally left together she could only think of what was next. How they would escape, how they would make a life for themselves when the world was out to get them.

She drew in a deep breath. The task was daunting, but she would persevere. For Eve. For their life together, however long it lasted.

“Sorry, sorry! I – Here, take it!” Eve was saying – there was a woman with belongings scattered around her. Eve was kneeling down, offering things up, generally being a nuisance more than a help.

The woman snatched her things away, stuffing things into her purse and moving to escape Eve as quickly as she could. Villanelle tilted her head, watching the lady go for a brief moment before giving Eve an inquisitive look.

“I leave for two minutes and you're already getting into trouble?” She smirked.

“Well, I saw an opportunity...” Eve mumbled, moving to press her side against Villanelle's. Her hand was stuffed in her pocket, eyes training on Villanelle. She gestured with her eyes for Villanelle to feel.

“I'll stuff my hands in your pockets any day, baby.” She said, smirking and moving to go behind her instead.

“What are you doing?” Eve raised a brow.

“Looks more natural this way.” She assured her, pulling her back towards the wall and wrapping an arm around her waist, using the other to go into the coat pocket. Eve relaxed back against her and chuckled.

“Looks like an excuse to me.”

“I need an excuse? Eve, I thought you knew me better than that.” She smirked, reaching her target; inside the pocket Eve held what felt like a coin purse. Her brows raised minutely, impressed. Without pulling it out, she unzipped the side enough to stick a finger in. There were cards, coins, and the most important thing of all; crisp euro notes. She bite her lip, opening the little purse a bit further and gingerly pulling the notes out without looking, and dumping the coins into Eve's pocket. When the money was out, she palmed the purse and removed her hand, putting it behind her back and letting it fall down her leg. She kicked it away, just in case the woman came back asking.

“Here I thought I was gonna have to do all the dirty work.” Villanelle wrapped both arms around her waist and hugged her from behind.

“See what happens when we work together? When you trust me?” Eve said, looking back at her.

“I'm sorry I ever thought you were anything less than amazing. I was stupid.” Her tone was soft, sincere.

“It's okay. You're probably not used to someone not... trying to use you for something or other.” Eve leaned her head back against her.

Villanelle did not respond, resting her chin on top of her head and opening up a protein bar. She took a bite and made a face immediately. The bar was chalky and tasted vaguely fruity. She couldn't readily identify what sort of fruit, as the packaging had berries on it but it definitely tasted more like horrible whey powder and fruit punch. She managed the bite, then offered it to Eve, who took one as well.

“Ugh. It's like drywall.” Eve sounded just as offended as Villanelle felt.

“Good thing I didn't buy it.” She chuckled.

Eve just smiled, going into her pocket to check how much money she had gotten from the woman; after a brief glance down, her brows raised visibly.

“Hey, we should go. I don't want to miss the train.” Her voice was a little higher than usual. Villanelle raised a brow but nodded, letting her go. Eve started to move away the moment she did, and Villanelle went to her side, chuckling.

“How much?” She leaned in to say it on the off chance that someone would overhear.

“Six hundred and some change...”

“Really? She was in a train station with that kinda cash?”

“I saw her changing cash at the exchange but I didn't think it was **that** much... I feel kinda bad...”

“Don't. This'll get us where we need to be, and someone going around in here of all places with that kinda money is bound to get robbed at some point. She looked rich and that purse was Gucci, I bet you she won't even miss it.” Villanelle reassured her, leading them through the crowd to the ticket machines lining another section of the terminal.

“I'd miss that kind of money.”

“Well, you were an agent for a section of MI6 that was getting paid under the table and were married to a teacher, of course you'd have. Much different. You can't compare yourself with that lady, you don't know her circumstance, okay?” Villanelle shook her head.

“Maybe I should find her and give --” Eve began, morals beginning to creep in like useless, ugly weeds in an otherwise perfect garden. Villanelle paused and cupped her cheeks, looking down at her eyes.

“Look at me, Eve,” She demanded. Eve frowned, but did. “Now isn't the time to feel bad, baby. We gotta get out of here as quick as we can. It's her money or our lives.”

“Shit, you're right. Sorry, come on – let's get out of here.” Eve was quick to agree, nodding and moving to the terminal they were already blocking. A few people were already queued behind them and looking irritated.

“Please.” Villanelle mumbled, letting her go and pulling up the itineraries to sort through them. Within a few moments, she had chosen their route; from Rome to Turin, Turin to Paris on a high speed train. The second leg would be risky without passports, but she was confident she could bluff their way through it if it came down to it.

“Fourteen hours.” Eve said, looking at the screen. Villanelle reached into her pocket to take the money to pay, smiling.

“Four, then we switch trains in Turin. You're gonna have to talk to me that whole time, too.” She grinned, paying and printing the tickets.

“I'm absolutely not going to talk to you for that long. I'll probably fall asleep on the second one.” Eve laughed.

“So rude.” Villanelle made a face at her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“ _Hurry up, you fucking lesbians_!” A voice yelled in Italian.

“ _Fuck yourself, she's bi_! _There's a difference_!” Villanelle responded, also in Italian.

“What did he say?” Eve turned to face the man.

“He said 'I'm a massive cocksucker' – weird thing to announce in public, but good for him, I guess.” Villanelle took her hand, tugging her away from the terminal. Eve didn't believe her, but didn't press her for the truth either.

“How long 'til we the train leaves?” She asked instead, holding on to her.

“Twenty minutes – we should board now, get a cozy spot.” Villanelle told her.

Being in Rome was setting her nerves alight in the worst way, and she wanted them away from it as quickly as they could be. Every face was a potential enemy, every move they took a risk that carried the possibility of landing them in trouble. She let her eyes wander, on watch for anyone who might be watching them. Eve enabled this by taking the tickets, reading the signs, and leading them in the right direction towards the train. She could feel her own heart beating in her chest, a rhythmic reminder of her own mortality that quickened when she noticed it. It beat in her ears as she scanned the crowd with growing obsession. She didn't notice when Eve validated their tickets, and didn't process stepping into the train; not until Eve moved into a bench seat and pulled her in alongside her.

“V – hey – you look at me now.” Eve said, tugging at her head.

“Hi.” Villanelle pulled her focus back in, looking to her.

“You okay? You went away there for a few minutes.” Eve's brows were raised in that telltale way.

“I was just keeping an eye out, just in case.” Villanelle shook her head briskly to confirm her half-truth.

“So you heard me before? When we were walking to the train?” Eve asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Villanelle lied.

“Weird, because I didn't say anything,” Villanelle expected her to look irritated, but the concern just deepened, “You don't have to lie with me, V. We have to be honest about what's going through our heads.”

Villanelle gave a small, genuine smile. If anyone else had said that to her, anyone at all - Konstantin, Dasha, past girlfriends, her mother, acquaintances – she would know they were trying to trap her. The longer she spent with Eve, the clearer it became. The constant manipulation she had been subjected to her entire life had been just that. Manipulation. It was what she had learned to do, how she defended herself, how others twisted her intentions to get her to do their bidding. The revelation was heavy in her throat, and when she turned away from Eve to lean on her, she was only faintly aware of the tears filling her eyes. Eve didn't say anything as Villanelle lifted her legs into the seat and pressed her body to Eve's smaller one. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, then shifted them as Villanelle sank down to place her head on her lap.

Eve went into the bag to pull out another dress, unrolling it and draping it over Villanelle's legs as a makeshift blanket. She shifted to make herself a little more comfortable, adjusting Villanelle gently before settling again. When Eve's hand went to her hair and began to stroke, Villanelle's eyes slipped shut, the tension melting from her body. She hadn't realized how tightly wound she had become in their short time in the terminal until Eve's fingers loosened the knots with her simple touch. Ever so softly did she run her fingers through the blonde strands, tucking some behind her ear to prevent them from falling into her face. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, crossing the bridge of her nose and soaking into the fabric of Eve's dress.

“Crybaby.” Eve broke the silence, smiling down at her.

“Shut up.” Villanelle mumbled bitterly, brushing at her eyes roughly. Eve took her hand and brought it up to kiss her knuckles.

“It's okay to cry.”

“I'm doing it too much. I don't mean to do it and I don't like it.”

“That just means you need to get it out. Remember the first time you cried in front of me? Well, the first time we cried in front of each other, I should say.” Eve smiled, letting her hand go and returning her own to Villanelle's hair.

“Yeah. You cried because you were afraid of me.” Villanelle didn't remember it with the same fondness that Eve seemed to.

“And you cried to try to make me react a certain way.” Eve reminded her.

“I didn't know you like I know you now.” Villanelle frowned, hand moving to rest on Eve's knee.

“But I knew you. Not personally... but I knew you were faking it then. And I know you aren't faking now.” Eve said. Villanelle didn't understand the point of her thought process.

“So?” Villanelle muttered, closing her eyes tight, legs curling in a little more.

“I'm just happy you're trying, that's all.” Eve smiled, leaning down to kiss her temple.

“You're changing me, Eve. Or... Or just making me feel things I didn't know I could feel.” Villanelle said, taking a deep breath. “It's... weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“I don't know. Weird weird? When I think about it, it's like it... gets caught in my throat. Like I'm nervous, which is fucking stupid because I don't get nervous.” Villanelle couldn't describe it. She wasn't playing a part, then, wasn't researching feelings or training for a persona. It made it so much more difficult to put things into words, because describing it would show Eve parts of her that she didn't even understand yet.

“I'm nervous too.” Eve told her. She was grateful to not be asked to elaborate further.

“The situation is sort of crazy...” Villanelle agreed.

“I'm nervous about being with you.” Eve clarified, looking out the window. The train had left the station, pulling them slowly away from Rome.

“I'm not gonna hurt you. Not anymore.” Villanelle shifted to her back, looking up at her.

“You can't make that sort of promise, baby.” Eve looked back down, smiling gently.

“I can't?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because there's no way of knowing that.” Eve sighed. It wasn't an exasperated sigh, or a weary one, but one of acceptance, given with a smile.

“Then I promise I won't ever do it on purpose.” Villanelle vowed.

“That I can accept.”

“Good.” Villanelle said as Eve looked back out the window, watching the buildings whip past. Eve's fingers returned to their earlier task, affectionately smoothing her hair.

They fell into a comfortable silence, with Eve staring out the window, and Villanelle staring up at her.


	7. ITALY: A Train out of Turin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve catch the transfer out of Turin and settle into a mostly secluded car and spend some quality time getting to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm very happy that people are enjoying my fic. Love ya all and hope you're all doing well. Feel free to leave a comment if you're so inclined!

Switching trains turned out to be an easy enough task; buying the transfer while they were in Rome let them bypass any ordeals that might have happened were they to spend time in the terminal there. They found their platform and waited a while for the train to admit them and boarded without issue, boarding at one of the cars further down on the train and moving to the last one, where few people would be. Villanelle could feel her nerves beginning to spike once again as they boarded, holding on to Eve protectively. She couldn't be sure what the reason was for the sudden anxiety. Had something tripped her minefield of instincts that she wasn't yet aware of, or had the day just been going so well that she was sure it was time for something to go wrong?

Eve guided them to a seat and attempted to let Villanelle in first.

“You go in first. Sit at the window, you like looking out.” Villanelle told her with a faint smile.

“You don't want a chance to stare vacantly out the window for hours? Pretend you're in a moody music video?” Eve nudged her gently.

“It's better for me to sit on the outside.”

From the outside seat, she could protect Eve easier; she could lift up and strike if she needed to. She could cover her body with her own, should a stranger try something sketchy. She would be the one that would be addressed if anyone came to check passports. Eve could sense her unease, leaning up to kiss her cheek before moving to sit. She immediately lifted the armrests and pulled off the jacket, patting the seat beside her. Villanelle took a moment just to regard her, appreciating the sight of her.

“You're staring at me again.” Eve observed, smirking.

“Well, if you had my view you would understand.” She grinned, plopping down into the seat.

“Are you always like this? Are you always gonna stroke my ego so much?” Eve asked.

“Yes.” Villanelle gave no wiggle room in her answer, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Eve laughed, laying against her chest and laying the jacket over them. “Even when I'm deliberately irritating you? Or have ascended to my final form of crazy bag lady?”

“When you irritate me I'll still compliment you, I'll just be angry about it. And you won't be a bag lady – not alone, at least. With me.” She reaffirmed, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“And what do I have to give you in return?” Eve said, closing her eyes.

“Nothing.” She told her, sincere.

“There's nothing you want?” Eve opened one eye to look at her, raising a brow.

“I just want to be with you. I want to hear your stories and the things that you think about. I want to wake up next to you. I want to be normal.” Villanelle told her. She got the distinct feeling that she expected her to say something sexual or flirtatious, but she couldn't bring herself to put up that front. Not when she was as wary as she was, barely able to sit still. If it weren't for Eve resting against her, she would be pacing the car. She didn't tell Eve how thankful she was to have her acting as a physical and emotional anchor, holding her steady in a turbulent sea of emotion.

“What does normal mean to you, V?” Eve spoke more softly now, in appreciation for the more muted tone Villanelle had taken. She was quiet for a moment as the conductor made their announcements; she didn't pay attention to them, gathering her thoughts. When she began to speak again, she did so staring out the window, the way Eve had on the last train. It was easier than looking into those soulful eyes, both of which were now gazing up at her. She didn't want to start crying again for whatever stupid reason, and felt like the longer she watched Eve watching her, the more likely it was to happen. Eve pulled all the honesty out of her with those beautiful Bambi eyes of hers, and she was already having difficulty keeping it together.

“You want a real answer, huh?” She remarked, glancing briefly to her before letting her head fall back.

“I do. We're on this train all night. Good time to start talking about stuff.” Eve confirmed. Villanelle gave a soft sigh, squeezing her affectionately.

“I want to watch movies with you. I want to... hold your bags when we shop. I want to bicker about silly stuff that we aren't even really mad about.” She rattled off things that came to mind when she thought of normalcy; simple things that she had never had without it being forced or conditional. “I want you to brush my hair more, that felt really nice.”

“You did seem to like that a lot.” Eve smiled, bringing her hand up to touch her still mostly untangled hair.

“It was nice. It felt like...” She trailed off, unable once again to put it into words, sighing in frustration, “I don't know. It was nice and I don't know how you made it so nice.”

“You don't know how it was nice? Because I wasn't pulling or hurting you when I did it?” Eve asked, curious.

“Even when I brush it it always feels bad. Most of the time I just put it up to avoid brushing it, then I use conditioner to keep it looking okay...” Villanelle explained, looking down at her. “How do you make it not hurt? Your hair must get tangled all the time, it's so thick and curly...”

“Years of practice, honey.” Eve chuckled. “Curls are a totally different beast than straight hair. I have to brush it when it's wet, put all these products in it to keep it from becoming a nest... your hair just needs a little gentleness, not chemical warfare like mine.”

“Even when I try to be gentle with it I always end up breaking it.” Villanelle mumbled, bringing up her other hand to thread into the curls she adored so much.

“I can show you how to do it.” Eve offered, closing her eyes. Villanelle looked down at her, making a soft noise to confirm rather than talking. All it needed was a gentle touch. She wasn't gentle; it wasn't in her nature to be, it wasn't in her training to be. She was ruthless and effective, violent – being with Eve was going against that nature. Could a person really subvert their nature for the right reasons?

“I had a really scummy boyfriend in college...” Eve said, inexplicably. “I think I dated him to piss off my parents because they never trusted me to make my own decisions. Well, I mean, I think that now. At the time I thought I loved him. Maybe I did, in some messed up way.”

“Yeah?” Villanelle muttered, intrigued. The change in topic pulled her out of her own head, which she was thankful for.

“Yeah. It was like... 25 years ago, I think? Something like that. I was younger than you and in my first year of my masters program. He was really into cars. And drugs, big cokehead.” Eve chuckled, shaking her head.

“Where did you meet him?” Villanelle rested her chin on Eve's head, curious. Part of her was jealous, as she always was when thinking of Eve with anyone that wasn't her, but it was overridden by a need to know more. To know everything she could.

“At the mechanic, when I took in the piece of garbage car I was using at the time. It was a real junker. At one point the key broke off in the ignition and you could just turn it at any point to start it up. It was such a piece of crap that no one ever tried to steal it, though. I went in to get a leak looked at, if I remember right... he was the one who worked on it. Hit on me **mercilessly** and kept asking if I wanted to go out for drinks. Which, at the time – I didn't even drink. I didn't do anything. But he was hot and I was sort of this, quiet, frumpy academic away from her parents for the first time and I was just so thrilled that someone was paying attention to me. So I agreed.” Eve told her, shaking her head a little – it obviously ended poorly.

“Then you found out he was as garbage as your car and you didn't last long?” Villanelle offered, hopeful that she never had a point where she thought that low of herself.

“Nope. We were together for a year. He was the worst, but he was **exciting.** He taught me how to hotwire cars. Never thought I'd need that knowledge again.” Eve smiled, looking up at her.

“Ohhh, that's what it was. You never got caught doing anything, did you?” Villanelle nodded, understanding the reason for the conversation. She didn't mention that she knew about her clean criminal record.

“The only good thing he ever did for me was to take the fall the one time I might have gotten caught.” Eve explained. “That's how we ended up breaking up. The cops got called on us – he was high and couldn't concentrate on the car he was trying to steal, so I was the one doing the hotwiring... The police came and he told me to hide. I sorta stuffed myself into the back seat and it was dark out so they didn't see me – he started a fight with them. Got taken away and was put away on a lot of charges I didn't even know about. I was so charmed by the fact that he went down for me...”

“But he was the one who put you in trouble in the first place.” Villanelle frowned.

“He also cheated on me all the time and stole from me.” Eve said.

“And you were... you were okay with that stuff?” Villanelle felt simultaneously sad for her and angry at the man she had once been with.

“Of course not. I convinced myself he was worth the heartache to compensate, that I could change him, that... I don't know. That somehow I would make him a better person. Until I was outside looking in, then I realized I was being stupid.” She said. “And that I was just bored with my life.”

Villanelle's throat went tight, and she looked back out the window. It was hard not to draw comparisons; they were on the run. She had dragged Eve into a life of flight and evasion. Who was to say that she wouldn't end up in the same place she was in all those years ago, trying to pick up the pieces that Villanelle had reduced her life to? She would sacrifice herself at a moment's notice for Eve. What made her so different from the man Eve had been infatuated with?

“Are you with me because you were bored?” She choked the words out – they didn't want to come, wedging in her throat, so she forced them. “Do you think --”

“I'm not 22 anymore, V. And you are _nothing_ like him.” Eve shifted to sit up, facing her, pulling her knees up under her. Villanelle's arms fell. The jacket that had been covering Eve was pushed to the side.

“So Niko wasn't boring you to death?” Villanelle asked. It was almost as if she wanted Eve to reconsider their relationship, before it was too late. Like she wanted her to leave while she had the chance. She was of two very different minds; the confident and the scared.

“V. The difference between now and then – I'm fully aware of what I'm doing. I have no illusions about this. I know this could all go wrong – we could get caught and killed, we could get separated, we could... I don't know. It could all go to shit really fast. I know you aren't safe to be with. I know you have problems and that you're, quite frankly, a terrible influence on me. But I'm _aware_ of that. And you're so much more than a thrill. You're my future. I know what I'm doing. I want this. I want you. I don't really care about safe anymore. Besides, if you tried to cheat on me like he did I'd kill you and bury you in a very shallow grave. Like, _disrespectfully_ shallow.” Eve said, smirking.

“Why would I wanna cheat on you? You're my favorite person.” Villanelle smiled. She could only half-process the rest of it – anything before 'you're my future' slipped in one ear and out the other. Eve had made her choice, and Villanelle would make hers. This insecurity that had reared its head wasn't like her, and she would chose to crush it with all her strength. For Eve.

“You love me.” Eve said, bringing a hand up to hold her chin. Villanelle grinned, tilting her head up a little and looking down at her.

“Yeah.” She agreed.

“Say it.” Eve demanded. She wasn't smirking anymore, expression softening and growing in intensity.

“I love you.” Villanelle said, brows raising at the shift in tone. “You know I love you.”

“Before right now the only time you ever said it was when you were trying to make me stay.” Eve reminded her, still holding her chin, fingers stretching to hold her jaw.

“I shouldn't have done that. You helped me learn that.” She nodded a little, catching the inside of her lower lip between her teeth to chew away her anxiety.

“You're a quick learner.” Eve leaned up to kiss her.

Instantly, her eyes slipped shut to delight in the feeling. Eve's lips, full and soft, wiped away every concern she had. It was easy to ignore that Eve had yet to say out loud that she loved Villanelle when she was creeping closer to bring their bodies together, easier to ignore the worries that had come up in conversation before. Villanelle took her by the hips, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull her on to her lap. Eve liked to be held, that much was clear; there was no hint of protest in her, and she pulled her arms to her chest to let Villanelle guide them as she pleased. Maybe it was just easier for Eve to show her that she loved her this way. Maybe she was still deciding whether or not she loved her. It wasn't hers to know, yet.

Wrapping both arms around her upper body tight, she trapped her there, arms pinning Eve's in the embrace. She felt completely loose in her grasp, as if every muscle in her body had surrendered to the feeling. It made her feel so _strong_ , so in control, in a way she had been having trouble feeling since they had left the ruins. It was as if Eve was funneling energy into her, energy she had lost to her own worry and strange feelings of inadequacy. It was everything a kiss should be, and she was breathless in it. She smiled as she felt Eve's tongue again, kissing it before parting her lips and returning the move.

She didn't know how much time elapsed as they kissed; she couldn't think with Eve's tongue in her mouth and would chose not to even if she could. She was vaguely thankful there wasn't anyone in the surrounding seats, and that they were nearly alone on the car. She was even more thankful that Eve didn't seem to have any qualms with making out where they could be spotted by others. Villanelle made a noise deep in her throat, emboldened, hand trailing from her arm to her side, getting a feel for the curvature of her body. When Eve didn't pull back, she slid it to her hip, and the outside of her thigh, an exploratory trail that she went back over a few times, slowly. Only then did one of Eve's hands make an appearance, slipping up from between them to Villanelle's neck, fingers wrapping around her nape. Every so often one would break the kiss to breathe, only to be taken again by the other before they could fully recover. It was dizzying, and Villanelle could feel her mind awakening to something more primal, something deprived of air and humid. It was a deep, deep desire that originated in her center and spread throughout her body, electric tendrils of need.

She stilled her hand on Eve's thigh when she heard a soft noise. A soft, barely audible thing that she only noticed because her senses had all shifted to focus on her; Eve had given a soft, needy whimper in her throat. Her hips shifted a little on top of her, and Villanelle could feel the muscles in her thighs squeezing tight. She was turned on, falling to pieces on Villanelle's lap on a train to France. She knew it wasn't the first time she had turned her on, but this was the first time she could actually do something about it. Eve was _hers_ and she was finally there physically to do something about it, and Eve wasn't fleeing to avoid the implication.

Still, she hesitated to round the curve of her thigh to touch, stroking her skin idly. She hesitated because it would be quick and dirty and she would have to make Eve bury all of her delicious noises in her lips. It wouldn't be special. She couldn't fuck her like she loved her on a train, couldn't tease and lick her for hours, couldn't get herself off to the sounds of her ecstasy. There was no real way to strip her naked and luxuriate in the sight of her. She wouldn't be able to see up close what parts of Eve clenched and heaved when she came –

While she was agonizing about the setting, Eve had moved her hand from Villanelle's neck and to the hand on her thigh, gripping it and dragging it over her own skin. Eve slid their joined hands between her legs, shifting her hips just enough to get the bottom of her dress a little higher. Villanelle stared, dumbfounded as Eve spread Villanelle's hand over her panties and held it there, making her feel the unbelievable heat that emanated from her center. It occurred to her in that moment that Eve was not, in fact, some blushing maiden who balked at the idea of sex not being some perfect union. She was a _woman_ , a grown, spectacular woman, one who knew exactly what she wanted and was fearless about getting it. She decided that she was ready, and Villanelle was _hers_ , body and soul; who was she to deny her?

“Put the jacket over you.” Villanelle's voice felt thick in her throat. Eve hooked the jacket with her foot to pull it up and lay it over her midsection to give some modicum of privacy. The idea of anyone other than her seeing Eve so aroused made her burn with possessive anger; she couldn't allow it. Biting her lip a little, she gently squeezed her through her panties, closing her eyes at the way she felt, relishing in soft gasp Eve gave. She pushed her middle finger into the damp fabric and dragged it up, slowly slowly, listening closely for something, feeling – she grinned in triumph as Eve gave a poorly restrained moan.

“You have to be quiet baby...” Villanelle opened her eyes, pressing a finger against her clit through the cotton as she said so. Eve whined softly, bringing her hand up to grip Villanelle's chin to turn her head and kiss her.

“Asshole.” She mumbled into her lips. “You know I'm not quiet.”

Villanelle groaned softly in acknowledgment, yanking her panties aside a little rougher than she meant to. It was difficult to rein herself in when Eve had given her access to her slick, inviting center, to her clit swollen with desire. Eve's arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding on to her as Villanelle kissed her hungrily, plunging her tongue between her parted lips. She didn't give her a moment to adjust, didn't tease or draw it out, positioning her fingers to push two inside, thumb sliding up to roll her clit. Eve's whole body reacted as if she was being touched for the first time ever, going tight and arching, legs spreading a little further. She wanted more, wanted Villanelle not to hold back and she could tell. She gave a little growl into her lips, other hand moving to thread into her hair, giving it a little tug to break the kiss.

She pressed her lips to Eve's ears as she began to move her fingers, curling them inside of her, stroking her walls, dragging them out only a little just to push back in.

“This is fucking torture.” Villanelle mumbled to her. “Do you have any idea how bad I've wanted to see you like this? Now I can't even see what I'm doing.”

“Fuck,” Eve mumbled weakly, forced to bite her lip to keep her moan quiet.

“Do you have any idea, Eve? I've dreamed about touching you like this, about having you in my arms and fucking you.” She whispered to her. Eve tried to bring their mouths together, but Villanelle wouldn't let her.

“I – I have too.” Eve gasped, biting her lower lip painfully hard.

Villanelle groaned and kissed her to stop her from biting, giving her lip a nip as she worked her harder. She wanted to feel everything she could manage in the odd environment that had become the location for their first physical sexual encounter. She was intent on making her come harder than she ever had with anyone else, intent on proving that she was better than any other lover she had had before. She wanted Eve to forget their names and only gasp hers ever again. She pushed a third finger inside, hand so coated in Eve's arousal that she found no real resistance. The stretch, the curl, the pinpoint accuracy of Villanelle's fingers proved to be too much for Eve, whose body went stiff, thighs trembling and hips rocking as she came hard around her. Eve kissed her so hard at that moment that it was almost painful, nails digging the back of her neck as she held on for dear life.

When she was sure Eve wouldn't cry out any further she broke the kiss again, panting, licking her lips. She stilled her hand but did not withdraw.

“We're gonna be on this train for a while... I can keep going as long as you want.” She punctuated her words by swiping her thumb over her clit again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eve gasped, pressing her face into Villanelle's shoulder; she didn't give a verbal answer, just nodded a little. Her thighs squeezed Villanelle's hand, hips rocking just a little. She was being driven mad by the inability to work her over more freely, stripped of the ability to see her, smell her, taste her, touch her all over, but Eve's movements and noises held her captive. There was something about the way Eve had molded her body to Villanelle's in the tight quarters, all trusting and soaked through her panties, that made her more than willing to torment herself to get Eve off as many times as she desired.

“When we get somewhere safer it'll be different. I want to see you like this, Eve, so fucking wet for me – I want you all to myself. I want to spend so long fucking you that you won't remember anyone else before me ever touching you.” She mumbled, unable to express herself otherwise given the circumstances. As she spoke, Eve moaned into her neck, inner muscles squeezing around her fingers.

“I'm yours.” Eve confirmed, voice a mere whisper. Villanelle's eyes rolled shut at the words, arm wrapping around her waist to hold her tighter. She was so turned on that it was almost shameful.

“Mine?” She said, to confirm, curling her fingers again and massaging intently.

“ _Yours_.” Eve pressed her lips to her neck to muffle her moan.

It didn't take long for Eve to come again, and her hand went down to still Villanelle's fingers, perhaps suddenly aware of the possibility of a stranger seeing them... or perhaps she was just adequately sated. Villanelle smiled and withdrew her fingers, covering her back up with the ruined panties she still wore. She looked at her hand, biting her lip a little. She couldn't resist bringing it to her lips to taste and smell her, closing her eyes and sliding her tongue along her index finger. Her eyes opened to see Eve staring up at her as she cleaned her fingers, fixated on her. Villanelle smirked, licking her lips as she finished, then brought her hand down to dry her hand on the seat.

“I can't believe we just did that.” Eve mumbled, shifting to make herself more comfortable on Villanelle's lap. Villanelle gave a giggle, wrapping both arms around her to adjust her.

“You started it.” She pointed out.

“Are you... do you want me to...” Eve began, but couldn't seem to manage the words. Villanelle kissed her forehead and shook her head.

“I'm okay baby. Don't worry about me.” She assured her.

“Are you sure? I could...” Eve mumbled, sliding a hand down her chest, looking up at her as she did. Villanelle caught her hand before it could trail lower, kissing it.

“Eve, you gotta stop offering 'cause I don't have that much willpower. Not when it comes to you. But I can't be sneaky if I'm not the one calling the shots, okay?” She warned, shaking her head. Eve gave a timid nod, smirking ever so slightly.

“Fine. Then... I owe you.” She decided.

“Oh, you're gonna owe me forever if you think of it like that. I'm a giver. Not big on receiving.” Villanelle snickered, hugging her again.

“Really? So I can just be lazy and you'll do all the work?” Eve smirked.

“Yeah, pretty much.” She nodded, closing her eyes.

“The way you were talking... god. No one's ever said anything like that to me.” Eve's lids fluttered closed as well. They rested their head on one another, and Villanelle furrowed her brows.

“No one? God, you only fucked cowards.” Villanelle muttered.

“I think men are just... different. Talking like that might have made them insecure.” Eve attempted to justify, and Villanelle snickered a little.

“So, cowards. You don't have to be nice, they aren't here.” She opened her eyes and kissed her on the nose.

“Fine. I'm only agreeing because I can't think anymore.” Eve laughed, opening her eyes to look at her.

“If that was all it took to make you stop thinking I'm gonna end up making you lose memories when we have more time and privacy.” Villanelle tried her best not to sound too proud. She failed.

“I think I could stand to lose some memories,” Eve giggled, settling against her, “God, I think I'm gonna have to throw my underwear out...”

“You're gonna go around with no panties on? Dirty girl.” Villanelle teased.

“I can't help it. You do things to me.” She mumbled, cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment.

“Should I put my hand back between your legs? I'm happy to keep doing things to you.” Villanelle grinned, whispering it into her ear.

Her reward was a gentle smack to the shoulder as Eve laughed, closing her eyes. She giggled, hugging her tight and doing the same.

“Not right now... Right now I just want to take a nap on you. So I can keep – what did you say I was doing this morning? Pushing my ass into your crotch?”

“You were. A lot. But take a nap for now, okay? I'll stay up and keep an eye on things.” Villanelle smiled.

It didn't take Eve any more convincing, the post-coital fog laying as thick as a blanket over her. Villanelle watched her, smiling as she saw her drift away, body going slack and heavy against her. She brought a hand up, laying it against the side of her head, gently threading her fingers into her hair. The feeling of it was comforting, as comforting as the weight of Eve's body on hers. They had adjusted enough that the weight wouldn't make Villanelle's legs go numb over time because Eve was partially between them.

“Sleep well, baby.” She mumbled, laying her head back against the rest.

Comforted as she was by Eve's body on hers, she was unable to resist slipping into a light sleep herself.

When she woke some time later, a black-haired man smirked down at the pair, the barrel of a silenced 9mm pointed at them.

“Passports, please.”


	8. FRANCE; The Train to Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome guest throws a wrench Villanelle and Eve's travel plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy Friday!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and comment if you're diggin' it. 
> 
> Please note the new tags for warnings.

Villanelle jerked upright, hastily depositing Eve into the seat beside her. Eve woke with a start, groaning and muttering an offended 'what the fuck, V--' as she sat up, clutching the jacket that had been draped over her. She went quiet as she saw what was happening. Villanelle shifted position just slightly, blocking the majority of Eve's body with her own. She was furious – with herself, with the man, with everything. Mostly herself for falling asleep, for being unprepared for such a circumstance. He must have gotten on the train during a stop. How did they know which train they were on? Had they sent agents to each train out of Rome – no, that was stupid, they had transferred since then. Maybe someone had spotted and reported them. Maybe there were agents in every major terminal looking out for them – but why wait until the train was in France, hours out of Turin to stop them?

Her mind was racing, her ears ringing almost painfully. It wasn't like her to panic. It wasn't like her to fall asleep when she was supposed to be alert. She glanced out the window on the opposite side. It was dark out – the train had already left its terminal. She could feel its movement just barely. They weren't at full speed yet but had left the last stop that the man must have come in on. The gun was partially concealed within his coat on the right side, arm tight against his body. He didn't want to alert the other passengers, likely warned to make this discreet. And if that was the case... the Twelve wanted them brought in alive. She drew in a deep breath through her nose to level her breathing and her heart rate, working quickly to shut herself off.

“Who the **fuck** are you?” Eve hissed next to her. Fearless, feral Eve, riled from being woken so abruptly by the armed stranger. Villanelle's lip twitched and she brought a hand to Eve's knee to quiet her.

“Brave of you to talk that way to a man holding your lives in his hands.” The man sounded amused. He was stocky, with a handsome face, probably in his 30s. Villanelle didn't recognize him. His accent was vaguely French.

“Don't talk to her. It's me you want to talk to, isn't it? We'll talk, then.” Villanelle sat up straighter, looking to him.

“Smart,” He chuckled, “You're slippery, Villanelle. But now we've found you, and at the next stop, here's what's going to happen. You and your lady friend will exit the train, quietly. You will draw no attention to yourselves. You will not try anything _smart._ If you come quietly, your friend will keep her life. This is a courtesy we will afford you for compliance; we have permission to kill her if you aren't.”

Villanelle's throat went tight, rage beginning to boil in her belly. She kept her face in check, controlling the micro-expressions that he was likely searching her face for. She kept her muscles relaxed despite the storm beginning to twist her insides. If she appeared ready to strike, it would compromise Eve. She drew in another deep breath and exhaled through her mouth, sighing and letting her body go slightly slack, grinning and tilting her head at him. It was time to act, in every sense of the word. Action would come later.

“Okay, I guess that's fair.” She agreed with a shrug, squeezing Eve's knee slightly. She knew Eve would react poorly.

“What are you ---” Eve snapped, and Villanelle turned her head to look at her. She needed to convey with her eyes what she was unable to say aloud and prayed to a god she didn't believe in that Eve understood.

“Eve! They caught us fair and square, okay? So just **behave** yourself. They're going to let you live, so relax. They keep their word about these things.” She said to her, staring directly into her eyes. Eve needed to let her play this out. She knew how the Twelve worked, and what instructions the agent had been sent with. They knew that Villanelle would play ball so long as Eve was at risk, and they wanted her back. Killing Eve was a last resort for them, knowing the way that Villanelle felt about her and given her volatile nature.

“You should really listen to her, Mrs. Polastri. It would be a shame if we had to make a scene.” He said, moving into the seats across from theirs. He kept the gun trained on Villanelle, who he was likely given permission to shoot in a non-lethal spot if she acted up.

Eve didn't seem to register the man's words, staring into Villanelle's eyes. She tried with all her might to send her some sort of telepathic message, to tell her it would be okay, to just trust her to guide them through this bump in their journey. She tried to tell her, in just a look, that she loved her and knew what she was doing. Eve gave a sigh of her own, breaking the contact and turning her head to look out the window, folding her arms over her chest, clinging to the jacket. Villanelle bit her lip, hoping that she understood, and looked back to the man.

“She'll be okay. I won't because now she'll be mad at me, but. These things happen.” Villanelle sighed, leaning back in her seat. Her body felt cold without Eve's on it.

“Good. So long as everyone is quiet and calm, this will be no problem.” He agreed.

“How long 'til the next stop?” Villanelle asked. She knew that the man had likely been briefed on how manipulative she could be, and she chose to play on that. Get him riled up, talk his ear off.

“It should be... about an hour until we're there.” He muttered, watching them intently.

“Which station? Are we close to Paris? I sort of lost track of time. She's been keeping me busy.” She grinned, nodding her head towards Eve, deliberately cheeky.

“V...” Eve muttered. She could feel her glaring.

“The station doesn't matter.” The man didn't break his stare. He barely even blinked.

“Okay, okay.” She raised her hands in false surrender, smiling and staring up at the roof. There was an emergency hatch not far from their seats. They were towards the back of the train, and Villanelle had spotted the doors before they had sat. They were two rows back. No one was sitting behind them, but there were bathrooms back there as well. She tried to remember the exact itinerary of their trip and how long they had been on the train; there were five stops between Turin and Paris, and they had made three already by the time she had her fingers in her new lover. That left unaccounted two stops, with four hours between the last one she remembered and Paris. They must have just left the station in Chambéry, which meant they were headed for Lyon. Their route must twist through the nature preserve, full of hills and trees and idyllic scenery better enjoyed without the threat to their lives.

“I'm gonna go crazy if I can't at least talk til we get to the station, you know. I don't like when it's too quiet.” Villanelle said, feigning the need to break the silence.

“Then go crazy. So long as you're compliant, I don't care.” The man attempted to dismiss her.

“That's not gonna work. If you're gonna try to hold us captive you could at least tell me your name. Come on, be nice.” Villanelle shifted her body to face him.

“Erick.” He replied.

“Is that your code name? That's boring.”

Eve snorted slightly next to her.

“No, I don't have a code name.” He shook his head.

“Oh, so you're too low rank for one.” Villanelle gave a slow, understanding nod. “Should have guessed by the gun. Very standard issue.”

“It's my preferred weapon...” Erick muttered.

“So you're just a standard sort of guy, then? A standard man. Maybe you have a standard wife and a very standard kid or two. Maybe they make average grades. Do you have a standard dog, too?” She teased, grinning.

“Would you be quiet? Go back to sleep if you're that bored that you need to run your mouth.” Erick was clearly not a patient man. He was exactly the type to be a lackey; he wouldn't be difficult to trip up, now that she had a feel for him. An unremarkable man who felt powerful with a gun. Probably some low level criminal with military experience.

“I don't think I can be quiet, but good try. Didn't they tell you all this when they briefed you on me?” Villanelle said, and glanced to Eve as she became aware of her fidgeting slightly in her spot. An idea came to mind, forming as she spoke. “What's wrong, baby?”

“... Aside from the obvious?” Eve looked at her, brows furrowed.

“Don't talk to each other.” Erick commanded.

“Oh man, did you forget to pee after...” Villanelle suggested. As she looked to her, she mouthed a word, eyes glancing down for a split second at the bag wedged between them: _Pen_.

“I forgot to pee.” Eve frowned; she glanced down quicker than Erick could possibly have registered.

“ _Stop talking to each other._ ” Erick said, through gritted teeth.

“She has to pee.” Villanelle turned her head quickly, moving enough, she hoped, to block Eve's actions with her body.

“I don't care. Hold it.” He snapped.

“I'm not having my girlfriend hold in her pee after the first time we fuck. Do you want her to get a UTI? Those can get really serious!” Villanelle said bluntly.

“I. Don't. Care.”

“Let her go pee or I'm going to make a scene. I'll scream really loud and tell everyone you have a gun. You'd have to shoot me to shut me up and I know they want me alive and unharmed.” Villanelle looked at him with deathly seriousness. He was likely under strict instructions not to alert the other passengers; it would make things too messy on the cleanup side. She watched the irritation in his face grow as he was quiet for a few seconds – did he have an earpiece in? Were their pursuers listening in and giving commands from some remote place?

“Fine. You get up to let her out. Keep your hands up where I can see them, and don't even fucking **think** of doing anything heroic.” Erick snapped from his seat, training the gun on Villanelle.

“Okay, okay. Getting up. See? Hands up where you can see them. See my hands?” She said, staring at the man, making a ridiculous face at him. She forced him to keep his eyes on her this way; she could only hope Eve understood what she had mouthed before, and what she needed her to do.

“Now you, get up and go to the bathroom. It's right there. Don't **you** try anything stupid either. Do what you have to do and come back.” Erick said.

He tried to divide his attention between the two, but didn't see Eve, her blessed Eve, slip the pen into her bra strap by the back of her shoulder, just out of his eyeline. She scurried past, running towards the bathroom. Villanelle waited for the moment. Her stare was intense, mind shifting into hyper-focus, as it always did when a kill was close. Time distorted, slowing, Erick's every motion registering as a pulse in her sight. His finger twitched on the gun. The muscles of his face were tight save for a gentle tic below his right eye, probably a stress reaction. His eyes were green and focused on Villanelle in turn, knowing her to be the dangerous one.

The sound of a kick striking the door as Eve feigned anger at the bathroom being occupied (it wasn't) caused his eyes to shift towards her for a second.

A second was all Villanelle needed. She dropped her hand down to retrieve the pen and closed her fist around it. She jerked forward, swinging her fist and the point of the pen directly into the side of his throat. It was a well made, expensive metal fountain pen, and the tip was sharp. It pierced the skin and slid wetly through the muscle and into the bulk of his throat, slipping between tracheal cartilage and stopping only when her fist hit his neck. The sound he made was repulsive, gurgling; the hit wasn't enough to kill him. Her other hand slid down to take the hand with the gun, turning it up beneath his chin just as he was pulling the trigger on her to save his own life. A second later and she would have been dead.

The bullet ripped through his jaw and exited at the top of his head, splattering her with viscera. Her stomach lurched at the heat of it, at the heavy crack a silenced gun still made when fired, even when placed directly to flesh. There were noises from the rest of the car; the shot had to have been heard. The bullet must have buried itself in the roof of the train, and even if she hadn't heard that – she felt a tugging at her arm as she gripped the gun in the dead man's hand. She ripped it free before his muscles could stiffen and turned her head to see a panicked Eve pulling at her, saying something she couldn't hear until time finally sped back up. Her ears still rang, but her voice cut through.

“... now, V, we have to – we have to go, somehow, now!” Eve whispered hard to her, pulling her towards the back of the car.

“Wh – shit, they were listening to him, yeah--” She babbled, closing her eyes tight for a moment to clear her mind.

“We have to jump.” Eve stammered, looking at the doors.

“Jump? Eve, the train is moving...” Villanelle squeaked out at the implication.

“We don't have a choice – he couldn't have been alone. We have to or the rest of them will come for us if they aren't already.” Eve said, looking at the doors.

“I think he had an earpiece in – you're right.” Villanelle mumbled, shaking her head rapidly and trying not to retch at the feeling of someone else's blood trickling through her hair. When had she gotten squeamish about violence? No, she wasn't squeamish, it was just disgusting. Getting a strangers blood on you was inherently gross, especially in the hair. She swallowed hard and looked at the doors. “Eve, the train is moving!”

“You said that. I need you to focus. We have to – we have to get the doors open and get off this train, V. We – we have to try.” Eve said, trying to maintain her own composure as she began to pry at the doors. Her eyes were wide and full of terror.

“How do we jump off a train without dying, Eve?!” She hissed, though she still continued to help her.

“Duck, tuck, roll, and hope we land on grass and not rocks?” Eve whined in response.

“Did you have a boyfriend who taught you that too?” Villanelle snapped, only irritated because of the horrifically high danger associated with the stupid thing they were about to do.

“No! I took physics in university, fuck you! I tell you something in confidence and -” Eve snapped, volume beginning to raise.

“Shut up! They're all looking at us – oh fuck.” Villanelle's eyes went wide as the doors opened. It was fast. They were going fast. Not nearly as fast as a high speed train could go, but _fast_.

“It's not that bad. It isn't that bad V – just...” Eve peeked out, looking towards where they were going, and barked a laugh. “A **hill!** Thank fuck, a hill, V!”

“A hill? Why do we care about a hill?” Villanelle balked, “What if we fly off and get like – sucked into the fucking train?”

“We're on the last car, Villanelle, and the hill is slowing us down! If we just – there's nothing but grass there, we aim for that and push away as hard as we can. Cover your head and roll, don't try to stop and don't land on your feet!” Eve told her, looking back in. “We have to go now!”

“You're fucking crazy. People think I'm crazy but you're **way** crazier! Don't do this, I can just – I can just shoot them!” Villanelle said, nearly hysterical – she looked where Eve was looking just in time to see two men filing in and bee-lining towards them, guns drawn.

“Villanelle?” Eve said, voice softer all of a sudden. Villanelle turned her attention back to her and felt small, gentle hands cup her cheeks. Full, perfect lips captured hers. “I love you.”

The words were crystal clear and beautiful. So beautiful, so strange and spectacular that her head spun. Eve loved her.

_Eve loved her._

Eve loved her!

The lips withdrew, and Eve was suddenly gone, ducking low and flinging herself out the opened doors.

Villanelle's heart thrummed in her throat, body going numb, frozen, frozen – no, she had to make sure Eve had made it!

Villanelle crouched down as low as she could, steadied her feet against the edge of the door, arms wrapped around her head. She trusted the instructions, because she had no choice.

She threw herself after Eve.

A leap of faith.


	9. FRANCE: Parc Naturel Régional de la Chartreuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle evaluates Eve's injuries and forms a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday. My week has sucked in a major way, so I hope I can at least bring you guys some happiness with this.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear anything you have to say about this work. Enjoy!

Wind whipped her dress every which way, snapping the fabric about her legs and arms as she flew/fell from the train. Her heart pounded in her ears – the ground rose to meet her far more quickly than she expected, and when they connected, the air was slammed out of her body. She had tried to relax as much as possible, to allow herself to roll, knowing that tightened muscles caused injuries more often than the fall itself, but it all happened so quickly. She skipped like a stone along the grass, grunting and yelping as the impacts bruised her. When she came to a stop, she gasped for air, head spinning. The train moved up the hill and then disappeared from sight, with no one else jumping out after them. Then, she began to laugh. She had survived! She had survived jumping from a moving train and hadn't broken anything – just some scrapes and bruises! Eve's instructions had worked.

Eve.

She jerked upright, looking around in renewed panic, looking back in the direction that Eve had jumped. She didn't see her, and fear gripped her chest like a vise. Giving a pained grunt as she stood, dress torn in places from the impact, she looked around. She had to keep her head on straight, had to find her. If something had happened – if she had fallen in a way that had taken her away from Villanelle, she didn't know what she would do. She would fall into despair. She would lay in the grass and let herself decompose in her sorrow. She would starve there, robbed of the only thing that had ever truly given her life any real meaning...

“Villanelle! _V_! Are you okay!?” The shrill voice of her companion pushed her into an immediate run towards it's location.

“Eve!” Villanelle choked out, near tears at the sudden, dramatic thought of her death.

“That was insane!” Eve laughed as she neared. She fell to her knees next to her, knees skidding on the grass.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Villanelle demanded, looking her over.

“I have a cut on my leg... and my shoulder feels, um, really bad.” Eve said. There were tears streaming down her cheeks, likely from the pain – or adrenaline, or both.

“Let me see!” She looked to her leg and grimaced slightly. The 'cut' was more of a gash from where her leg had found a rock and decided to take it along for the ride. It was still lodged in her calf, and she was bleeding.

“My heart is _racing_ , that was the dumbest thing I've ever done.” Eve mumbled. The adrenaline was probably keeping her from feeling the pain as succinctly as she would have normally, because when Villanelle glanced up she could immediately identify a dislocated shoulder.

“I have to take care of your leg and arm, Eve. Your shoulder is dislocated.” She told her softly, looking around. “Do you remember if you kept that jacket? Or the bag?”

“Yeah – when you were wrestling with him I grabbed both... I don't know where they are, but I jumped with them.” Eve frowned, looking at her arm and giving a shrill sound. “Oh my god! That looks disgusting! Villanelle fix it!”

Villanelle leaned down to kiss her forehead and then stood, looking around. It was the dead of night and the only light was that of the stars and the moon in waning gibbous. It wasn't much, but it would work. The jacket was navy blue and might be a lost cause, but the bag was made of a reflective material that was sure to catch even the dim moonlight. She looked towards the tracks and then studied the grass, stepping back and forth to see if there was any sort of reflection from the bag. When she saw it, she sprinted towards it, grabbing it and grinning wide when she saw the jacket had not strayed far from it. Their luck was turning around rapidly.

“V! It's really starting to hurt!” Eve whined.

“I'm coming baby, hang in there.” Villanelle mumbled as she half-ran back to her side, dropping to her knees again.

“You know how to fix my shoulder, right? I've heard with dislocated shoulders you can just kinda – shove them back into place, is that true?” Eve was getting frantic, and every time she looked at her shoulder she made a face like she was going to be sick.

“Stop looking at it!” Villanelle chided, biting her lip as she positioned herself over her, trying to decide what to attend to first. She focused on her leg and took a deep breath.

“I can't help it! It's so gross.” Eve's face was almost funny, all big eyed and disgusted at the state of herself.

“Well – just try? I have to stitch your leg. It's pretty deep at the end, and it isn't gonna stop bleeding unless I do.” Villanelle looked down at it, unbuttoning the bag and rifling through it. She was so thankful that Eve had grabbed it, and that she had thought to bring the little sewing kit with her. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do until they got to Paris and she could properly attend to her.

“You have to stitch it? Oh god. That's going to hurt like hell, isn't it?” Eve asked, closing her eyes.

“Yeah... You're gonna hate me for this, but I have to do it, okay?” Villanelle bit her lip, hesitant to bring her any pain. She took a deep breath and went back into the bag to retrieve the remnants of a water bottle from it. “I have to clean it as best as I can. I got some paracetamol from the house, which will help a little. Here – take a sip of water and four of them, then give it back.”

“I'm not going to hate you for it – I jumped off a fucking train, I'm happy I'm alive. We jumped off a _train_ , V!” Eve was still awestruck. Part of Villanelle was as well, but worry over Eve's injuries overrode it.

“We're kinda badass, right?” Villanelle offered, grinning slightly. She got one of the needles from the kit and carefully bent it with her fingers so that she could make the stitching process as quick as possible, pulling out a little bobbin of new white thread. It was thin but had good tensile strength and was the best candidate. Eve took some of the medicine and waterfalled some of the water into her mouth to wash it down before handing it back, closing her eyes.

“Yeah we are. Is that going to work? Have you ever done stitches?” Eve asked, keeping her eyes closed.

“Yeah, on myself a bunch of times. It's gonna be okay baby, just trust me on this one. I've been beat up and stabbed more than once.” Villanelle offered. “Do you want me to put my foot down there when I do it so you can hold on to it 'cause you won't be able to hold my hand?”

“Your foot? No, V, I'll be okay.” She scoffed. Villanelle stretched her leg out to the side anyways, just in case.

“Alright... I'm gonna start, okay? I'm gonna wash it out a bit and take out the rock. Please don't scream.” And hope the rock wasn't an iceberg blocking a bigger injury.

“Please don't walk me through it. Just do it.” Eve was irritated with the talking, which was reasonable, given the state of her.

Villanelle offered a smile in the darkness before setting to work. She used the tips of her fingers to gently take hold of the rock, pulling it out. It came easily, the wound no deeper there than the rest. She tossed it aside and took the water, biting her lip as she slowly poured it over the wound to flush out any remaining debris and to hopefully clear out enough bacteria to help her avoid infection. She couldn't really account for the bacteria she was probably putting into it with the needle and her own hands, but they would worry about that in Paris. She then took another deep breath and glanced up at Eve, who she hoped would reconsider her earlier offer of gripping her in some way rather than screaming and jerking her injured shoulder. She pushed the edges of the gash together, teeth digging further into her lip as Eve did, in fact, yell. She didn't scream; she yelled. At Villanelle.

“Holy shit what are you doing?! Are you pinching it?! That hurts!” Eve protested, leg shifting slightly.

“I know it hurts baby, but this is how you sew someone up. Try not to move around!” Villanelle snapped.

“Easy for you to say!”

“I didn't drop on a bunch of rocks, so sue me. Stay still!” She returned. “If you move around again I'm gonna have to sit on your leg and that might make things worse, so just – trust me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Eve was suddenly meek, letting her eyes shut again. “Keep going, I'll try to chill out.”

“ _Thank you_.” Villanelle mumbled, getting back to work. She felt Eve's hand reach for her, fingers wrapping around her calf and squeezing lightly as she stitched. The sound of her pained whimpering broke her heart so effectively that she almost couldn't continue, needing to close her eyes for just a second before continuing. “You're doing so good baby. I'm almost done, okay? I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, it's okay – this'll stop an infection and from me bleeding out, you're doing what you can to protect me, it does hurt like a **motherfucker** but infections are bad!” Eve began to ramble the way she did when she was hurt or panicking. Villanelle focused on the wound; three stitches down, three to go until she was closed up to her satisfaction.

“They're very bad, yes.” Villanelle muttered. Eve's nails dug into her calf, which was fine; so long as she kept still, she could carve Villanelle's skin to ribbons for all she cared.

“I'm so glad I grabbed that bag.” Eve gasped as the last puncture was made, the thread pulled through. “I mean this really sucks, still, but I'm glad I did.”

“I am too. And I'm glad I had to fix your dress, otherwise I wouldn't have thought to grab this little kit.” She smiled as she tied off the thread and looked over her work. The bleeding was tapering off, and the stitches were holding. They weren't too tight, but she was still wary of them popping because of the material of the thread. She looked up to Eve and smiled. “Okay... now that shoulder. So, what I'm gonna do is just what you said – I'm gonna pop it back into place. I've done this to myself before too but I never put a sling on after. I was always fine but I'm gonna make you wear one, okay?”

“I'm twenty years older than you, I don't heal as fast. I'd insist on wearing one.” Eve agreed.

“It's super sexy when you trust me.” Villanelle grinned, pulling away from her lower body and moving to Eve's other side, where the injury was. She pulled out the last remaining piece of clothing from the bag; a plain white shirt with long sleeves. It'd work well enough. She pulled off her sandal and gently placed her foot to Eve's ribcage, taking her arm and looking to her. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Not even a little, but I – fuck! You _asshole_! You could have given me a countdown or something!” Eve yelled, slapping Villanelle's leg with her other hand as Villanelle didn't wait for her to finish her sentence to shift her shoulder back into place.

“Sorry, baby. You would have tensed up if I did, it was better this way. But you did amazing.” Villanelle smiled, carefully pulling her arm to her torso. She used the shirt to make a sling, tucking her arm into it and tying the sleeves together behind her shoulder. “No moving that shoulder if you can avoid it... It has to rest for a few days. It should be okay though. Everything should be okay.”

“Everything should be okay.” Eve affirmed, sighing and sinking back into the grass.

Her eyes closed, presumably to spend just a bit more time processing the fact that they had jumped off a train and survived. Villanelle moved to lay down beside her in the damp field, using her arm as a pillow and gazing at her. Her features were soft and inviting in the pale, pearlescent moonlight. She looked like a painting, timeless and beautiful, but not boring the way that Villanelle usually found paintings that didn't contain some sort of symbolic gore. But then, Eve was so much more than some artists attempt at capturing someone like her with earthly mediums. Maybe she was not like a painting at all. Maybe she was more like a dream. A beautiful dream, a dream that comforted when the world seemed too dire to face in the waking hours.

But then, Villanelle usually forgot her dreams, and even if she and Eve were parted and never brought back together, she could never forget her. Even when Villanelle died, when her soul could no longer sustain her body, it would still bear the mark that Eve had left on it.

“You love me.” Villanelle mumbled, awed by the fact. Eve chuckled softly, opening her eyes to glance at her.

“Yeah, I do. Crazy, right?” Eve said, keeping her eyes on Villanelle's enraptured face.

“And you're sure... right? That you love me?” She brought a hand to Eve's cheek on the other side, stroking it gently. Eve was quiet for a moment, looking over Villanelle's face. They lingered on her eyes, her nose, her lips, then her eyes again as she nodded.

“I'm sure. I wouldn't have run for anyone else, V... And I know love makes me do things I wouldn't do normally.” Eve confirmed.

“Like jumping off a train.” Villanelle offered with a giggle.

“Like jumping off a train.” Eve agreed, laughing and looking around, “God, where are we? Do you have any idea?”

“I think the last station was Chambéry.... and I think we're outside of the nature preserve, or in it, since I see forest over that way. I don't know how far off we are, but the itinerary said that our last stop before Paris was Lyon... if we're halfway between them... then it's five hours away to Paris. If we had a car.” Villanelle broke the news as gently as she could, biting her lip.

“Well, crap.” Eve laughed, bringing her uninjured arm up to drape over her face.

“We're alive, though. We have a gun, we have some money, and we have the night making us harder to find, right? It'll be okay.” Villanelle reassured, sitting up.

“And my legs are in working order, so we can at least walk to a town or... something.” Eve gave a soft noise as she moved to sit upright. A noise that concerned Villanelle and made her hop to Eve's other side.

“Mm, no. I will carry you.” She insisted, looking her over. She placed a hand on her back to feel for any additional injuries Eve might not have been aware of, and she made a face in return.

“I'm perfectly capable of walking.”

“I know you are, but I think the fall was hard on your back... and if you put weight on your leg, I'm worried the stitches will pop because it's only thread keeping it closed.” Villanelle explained. She kept her voice soft and non-judgmental, knowing Eve to be sensitive about being underestimated. “Until we get to Paris... Please let me take care of you. When I didn't see or hear you right away when I landed I got this feeling in my chest like... it was like I was choking.”

“Oh, honey.” Eve frowned, features softening where they were just a moment ago beginning to harden in irritation.

“I'm not trying to make you feel bad.” Villanelle deflected, shaking her head. As she spoke, she placed the bag and jacket on Eve's belly, “I just don't want you to take a risk you don't need to when I can help.”

“Alright, alright. I believe you. If you want to carry me then that's fine for now. But I'm not that light and I don't want you to get exhausted... What if you just leave me here and find a car, then come back for me?” Eve suggested.

“No.” Villanelle replied simply, getting herself into a squat that she could easily raise up from and hooking her arms under Eve's thighs and around her back.

“No? Just no? I'm not going to get an explanation of any sort?” Eve furrowed her brows, laughing.

“We're in an open field next to the train tracks. You'd be alone in an open field, next to the train tracks, where two idiots who are looking for us saw you jump out from and saw me follow. They already reported this, I bet you anything, and they'll come looking. I won't let them find you. I don't know how they found us before, but... It's my fault we're here in the first place.” Villanelle explained, lifting her easily. Her body was a bit sore from the fall, but she had suffered far worse in her past. Eve, despite her insistence to the contrary, was very light.

“It isn't your fault.” Eve told her, resting her body against her chest once she stood.

“I fell asleep.” Villanelle shook her head, turning to look around. The vast expanse was broken only by some lights to the west; a town? She knew there were some dotting the countryside, and a few homes and lodges nestled in the preserve.

“So did I.” Eve countered.

“You had more reason to. I should have been awake to see him coming to us.” Villanelle began to walk towards the lights.

“How would that have made it any different, V?”

“I could have... taken him out before he alerted the others. And before that, there must have been someone who saw us and I didn't realize it.” Villanelle berated herself out loud. She didn't know if she was genuinely angry with herself or just needed Eve to reassure her that she hadn't fucked up.

“Hey, V?” Eve said, looking to her.

“.. Yeah?” She looked to her briefly before returning her eyes to the ground, watching for things she might trip on.

“Cut it out. Self-pity isn't your style. I know you've been having a hard time and it probably has a lot to do with having me to take care of, but you're doing well, all things considered. We're in kinda extraordinary circumstance, right? We're on the run from an organization that wants me dead and you killing for them that has access to what I can only assume is limitless resources and power. It's been two days and it's exhausting, but... We had nothing when we started this.” Eve brought her hand over to stroke a wisp of hair out of Villanelle's face as she spoke, already in one of her long, breathy rambles before Villanelle could react, “No passports, no money, nothing but each other. _You_ found us a safe place where we could get our bearings. _You_ found us clothes and food and a bed. _You_ booked us the best possible way to Paris, and _you_ managed to mindfuck Erick enough to get him to let his guard down and take him out.”

“ _You_ patched me up and now you're literally carrying me to somewhere safe because I was ready to sit in an open field like a dumbass. I need you to be confident, V. For me. Because I never am, and you have to be for both of us. I do want to hear about things that bother you when they bother you, but you being so sure of yourself is one of the main reasons I believe we can actually do this stupid thing that we're doing. So please, please, please, keep being the cocky, insufferable agent of chaos that I've come to love. I mean – I'm more than happy to talk if you have something you need to get out, obviously, and if you're hurting I want to know so I can be there for you --”

Villanelle paused her steps to kiss Eve before she ran out of air, giggling into her lips. Eve relaxed in her arms, chuckling in response. Train of thought derailed by the kiss, Eve sighed and leaned away to look at her again. “You can't just kiss me and make me shut up every time I'm ranting, you know.”

“I'm definitely willing to try it a lot though.” Villanelle nodded, beginning to walk again.

“I meant all of that, V.” Eve laid her head back against her shoulder, hand sliding around the back of her neck, stroking her nape.

“I know, baby. Um – thank you. For saying it. I don't know what's been going on with me. It isn't like me to be all critical and mopey about myself.” Villanelle admitted. The lights were still far off, but she could see now that it was a stretch of road with a few street lamps illuminating it.

“I know what it is.” Eve said.

“Yeah? Could you enlighten me so I can stop feeling so weird?” Villanelle replied.

“You're making me a priority. You're worried for my safety and it's making you doubt yourself because you're not used to giving a shit about someone else. You don't want to get this wrong... You _care_ about me.” She said the last bit with a teasing lilt to her tone, smirking.

“Shit, you're right. Ugh.” Villanelle wrinkled her nose in feigned distaste, then grinned.

It made sense, after all. She was no longer allowed to be as selfish as she could be, not if she wanted to keep Eve happy as well as safe. The lifestyle that allowed her to be a hedonistic jerk was in the rear view now, slipping away so quickly it was almost scary. If she thought about it for too long it became scary, given all the comfort she found in the materialistic. Where they were going, she had stashes of cash and her credit cards, but she certainly couldn't use the cards anymore since every one was attached to the Twelve. Cash could run out easily or be lost, terrifyingly finite when she had once had so much that she would deliberately buy things just to destroy them for fun or throw them out when she didn't like them anymore. She had never been a particularly careful person, but she would have to learn how, now that she had someone to care for. Maybe Eve would have to teach her that, too. She only hoped that Eve didn't tire of having to teach her how to be more human.

“I'm right a lot.” Eve said, a bit proudly. Villanelle laughed as they came up to the road, looking up and down it.

“Yeah, probably, but I won't always admit that 'cause I'm right a lot too.” Villanelle told her, then bit her lip. “Okay... I'm gonna sit you down here, and I'm gonna go find us a car. If I can't get one within an hour I'll come back and we'll start walking 'til the sun comes up and there's more traffic.”

She stopped by a large rock surrounded by heavy brush, one that she would both remember and was more than large enough to obscure Eve's body from any angle if she stayed still. It was as if she was picking a spot to stash priceless treasure, too nervous about leaving her there not to give an explicit time limit to their time apart. Eve simply nodded as Villanelle knelt down, taking the jacket and splaying it out in a relatively solid spot. She reached in to take the remaining cash from the pocket, jamming it into her bra, and set Eve down.

“If it's been an hour and you aren't back yet, I'm coming looking for you.” Eve warned.

“Jeez, so clingy. Fuck a girl on a train one time and all of a sudden you can't be out of her sight!” Villanelle teased, pulling her in for one more kiss before trying to stand. To her surprise and subsequent arousal, Eve took her by the hair and held her there to kiss her more deeply. She dropped down to her knees to return it, giving a playful growl and pushing towards her. Eve laughed as she sank back against the rock, breaking the kiss and looking into her eyes.

“Get back here in less than an hour and maybe you can fuck me in a car next.”

That was all the motivation Villanelle needed to sprint down the road.


	10. FRANCE: Parc Naturel Régional de la Chartreuse (twenty minutes later)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle seeks out transport to Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday. Love ya.
> 
> I'm incapable of writing a Villanelle that doesn't constantly proposition Eve.

Roughly twenty minutes of sprinting then walking had yielded her no result, and Villanelle's body was aching. She needed to rest, but would walk for at least another ten minutes before turning back to collapse in the bush with Eve. She was irritated by this whole process, and the silence of the night was oppressive with Eve not at her side. She didn't even have music to keep her company. Just her, nighttime's insect population, the road, and the moon. She peered up at the sky briefly, looking to it with her head tilted slightly. When she was little, she had been obsessed with the moon, sneaking out every time it was full to lay in the fields and watch it until sleep crept up on her. When she thought of it, and watched it, there was something deeply reassuring about it, even then, alone on a road in her ripped up, stolen dress.

“I hope you're bringing me luck, you big, beautiful lady...” Villanelle stretched her arms out towards it, smiling softly, “I hope Eve sees you too. You look so lovely tonight.”

She took a deep breath and grinned as she turned her head back down, hearing something in the distance. A car! Blowing a kiss to the moon above, she brought her hand to her hair to ruffle at it and ran it over her face to wipe any signs of strength away. Once again, it was time to act. Dropping to the ground on the side of the road, she opened her eyes as wide as they could go and kept them open, flexing her facial muscles for a moment to conjure tears. It worked quickly, and as the car crested over the hill in front of her, she waved to flag the driver down, sobbing dramatically. She put an arm over her face to block the glare of the headlights as the driver noticed her and rolled to a stop.

Within a moment, there was a young woman at her side, kneeling and speaking rapidly in French.

“Miss, are you okay? Oh my god – were you attacked?” She asked, noticing the bruises and scrapes Villanelle had taken in the fall from the train.

“M – my boyfriend, he threw me out of the car... I've been out here all night and you're the first one who's stopped...” Villanelle sobbed, pushing out a few more tears as the girl offered her arms out. She took them, forcing her hands to shake a little as she rose to her feet. She put on a convincing French accent, voice high and trembling.

“That bastard! Oh, you're hurt – I have a first aid kit in my car, and some water, you must be thirsty...” The poor, sweet woman said. “What's your name? I'm Selene. Is your arm okay?”

“I'm Julia...” She mumbled, closing her eyes to feign dizziness. “Please, you don't have to do anything... If I could just... can I use your phone? He took mine, and I – I have to call my mother. She'll come to get me. My arm hurts a little, but I'll be alright.”

“Of course. Here, lean on the car, I'll get it. You poor thing.” Selene mumbled. Villanelle couldn't quite bear to look at her; her eyes were dark and kind. She mentally kicked herself – this was no time for a conscience. Since when did she have one of those anyways? She had a task to complete. Frowning, she leaned on the hood of the car and took another breath, fiddling with her hair. Under her arm and tucked into her bra strap was the gun, and she kept her arm pressed down to hold it there, giving the appearance that she'd hurt it in some way during her fall “out of her boyfriend's car”. When Selene came back out of the car, Villanelle gave her a little smile.

“Thank you... You're very kind.” She said, softly, feeling a little terrible about what she was about to do.

“You don't need to thank me.” Selene said, handing her unlocked phone over.

“I really do. And I need to give you something, okay? Please don't panic.” Villanelle said, sighing as she took it.

“What? You don't have to give me anything...” Confusion crossed her features as Villanelle reached into her bra to take out a hundred Euro note, holding it out to her.

“I do. My girlfriend would be mad if I left you with nothing.” She said, dropping the accent she had put on to trick her.

“Your – what? What's this about?” The girl was beginning to panic, looking at the note.

“Take it. Please. For the phone.” Villanelle said, looking to the money with her eyes.

“Is this some sort of scam? What – give me back my phone!”

“Sorry.” Villanelle sighed, getting the treeline in sight and a good, loose grip on the phone. She then chucked the phone as hard and far as she could, watching it disappear into the trees.

“Why would you do that?! I was trying to help you!” Selene yelled, aghast at her behavior. Her angry yell turned into a terrified scream as Villanelle drew the gun, pointing it at her. Villanelle was no longer shaking and crying, but the picture of calm threat.

“Take the money, please. I'm taking your car, it's the least I can do in return. Take the money and step away from the car, okay? I _don't_ want to hurt you. I just need your car and I need you not to freak out. Really, I'm trying to be a better person.” Villanelle sighed as Selene dropped to her knees, crying in fear. She stepped away, but kept the gun trained on her as she moved towards the drivers seat, glancing in. A purse – she leaned in to grab it. “I'm gonna put the money in your purse and leave it with you. I only threw your phone 'cause I can't have you calling anyone on me. Don't call anyone on me even when you get a phone, please. I don't want to have to come back and kill you, I really don't. I'm really trying my best not to hurt you and you seem very nice.”

She offered out the purse to the woman on her knees. Selene took it, staring up at her with tear-filled, horribly confused eyes. Villanelle offered a gentle smile, trying to reassure her that as long as she didn't try anything stupid, there was no problem. She patted her shoulder with her free hand, trying not to think about the absurdity of it given the loaded gun ready to shoot.

“It was very nice of you to stop. The sun should be up in an hour or two, and I'm sure someone will be as nice as you were to me. So why don't you just... Sit down over there and watch the moon, okay? It's really beautiful and it always makes me feel better.” Villanelle tried to keep her tone reassuring and kind, though it was alien to her to be thoughtful to a stranger. It was what Eve would want her to do. Stupid, beautiful Eve, creeping into her brain the way she did, making her feel things.

“This doesn't make any sense.” Selene mumbled, tears streaming down her face.

“Yeah, I agree. Bye, Selene.” She moved to the car.

Selene, clinging to her purse and watching, moved off to the side of the road as the door closed and Villanelle drove off. In the rear view, she could see her lifting her eyes to the sky. Villanelle shook her head as she sped away, leaning back in the seat and keeping her eyes on the side where she had left Eve, looking for the rock. Part of her felt really, _actually_ bad about leaving the girl there. If Selene had been more of an asshole it wouldn't have even been a thought, but she had just tried to help another woman in need. Instead, she ended up at gunpoint. She hoped the whole experience wouldn't sour the kindness in Selene's soul... and that Eve didn't pry about where she had gotten the car. Surely, Eve would make her go back and pick her up and it would be a whole conversation about kidnapping versus carjacking, and she definitely wasn't in the mood to argue why it was better to just leave the well-meaning girl on the road. She was alarmed enough at the fact that she was worried about it; weeks ago she wouldn't have given the girl a second thought, much less her purse back.

Of course, it was going to be a long car ride and Eve was bound to pry, being the stickler for details that she was. Villanelle groaned, hoping that her companion just went to sleep when she got in the car. She smiled as she saw the rock, biting her lower lip excitedly as the thought of Eve woke the butterflies in her stomach. They fluttered away, filling her with warmth, with love. _Love_ , reciprocated and real and exciting and – she took a moment as she parked to compose herself, clearing her throat and wiping the smile from her lips. She looked around at the inside of the car to get a feel for the contents at a glance. She popped the glovebox; nothing but papers jammed in there. Mail, car documentation, nothing useful. She shoved the gun into it and closed it, popping open the top of the center console.

“Smart girl. I hope she gets her car back after we ditch it.” Villanelle mumbled as she sifted through the contents there. She found a thin container with a cross on it; the first aid kit. There was also a safety hammer with a seatbelt cutter, some pens, a toothbrush, and a little tube of toothpaste. In the cupholder was a bottle of water. “Very prepared. Good for you, Selene.”

Villanelle opened the door and left the car, looking to the rock where she had left Eve. She was just able to see as she approached that Eve was staring up at the sky, leaning back against the rock. She looked so content despite her injuries, so stunning in the moonlight that Villanelle caught herself, for what must have been the hundredth time that day alone, staring at her. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it back out, trying to put herself back together a little before approaching the woman in the bush. Her clothing may have been torn to shreds and she probably didn't smell great, but she still wanted to look at least decent when Eve saw her again. Eve must have sensed her staring again, because she started to chuckle, eyes rolling from above to below, looking at her.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi, baby. I got a car. Didn't even take me an hour.” Villanelle couldn't keep the pride out of her voice, eager to prove herself useful to Eve.

“Awesome. Am I allowed to walk to it or am I -” Eve began to ask, and Villanelle scoffed.

“Not yet, no.” She moved to the bush and knelt, offering out her arms. “C'mere. There's a first aid kit in the car... I want to drive for like, half an hour, then we can stop and I'll patch it up better.”

Eve rolled her eyes at Villanelle's insistence, but shifted closer to wrap her arm around her shoulders, keeping the injured shoulder at rest. Villanelle smiled, pulling her up into her arms again. She carefully gathered the jacket and bag into a hand and stood, taking her to the car.

“Nice car. Did you... have much trouble getting it?” Eve asked, looking up at her as she reached down to get the door for her. Villanelle shook her head quickly.

“No, not really.” She said it more dismissively than she meant to, but hoped that Eve would just accept it as she gently put her into the passenger side.

“So was it just... on the road with the keys in, or...” Eve began to pry, settling into the seat.

“Eve, do you really want to know the answers?” Villanelle raised a brow at her before moving to the other side.

“I don't know, do I?” Eve's brows furrowed, no doubt wondering if she had killed for the car.

“I didn't kill anybody. Or even hurt anybody!” Villanelle frowned at her.

“You took the gun.” Eve pointed out as Villanelle slid into the driver's side.

“No one's going to just go 'oh, it's the middle of the night and this stranger on the road needs my car, let me just hand it over', Eve. No one would even do that in broad daylight. I had to bring it, to make them **think** they didn't have a choice but to give me the car. You would have heard if I'd shot it.” Villanelle explained, pulling off and starting down the road.

“But you didn't hurt them, either.” Eve clarified, looking to her.

“No! I behaved. I even let her keep her purse.” Villanelle mumbled.

“Oh god, is she going to call the cops?” Eve leaned up a little.

“I threw her phone into the forest. It's three in the morning, she won't find it, and even if she does it's probably broken.” Villanelle reassured.

“So there's a girl on the road with no phone or way home in the middle of the night...” Eve settled into the seat, frowning deeply.

“I gave her a hundred Euro so she can replace her phone.” She offered, hoping it would make her feel better. Eve looked at her and laughed, reaching across the console to rest a hand on her leg.

“Weirdly thoughtful of you, all things considered. Weird, but thoughtful.” Eve commented, frown fading. Her fingers absently stroked Villanelle's thigh as she drove. The touch was innocent enough, but Villanelle was anything but innocent.

“Thank you. I'm very considerate.” Villanelle smirked, bringing a hand over to turn the radio on low, hoping for something to distract herself from the hand on her leg. She cursed her hair trigger sex drive that could make such a simple touch set her nerves jittering. She scanned the radio station for something familiar, and grinned. She immediately caught on to the tone of the song, mouthing the words quietly so as not to embarrass herself.

“Oh! Turn it up. I love this song.” Eve said, not waiting for her to do it – she was already reaching before her sentence was finished.

Eve did not care so much about being embarrassed, it seemed – she launched into off-key singing, passionately singing along to _La Isla Bonita_ by Madonna. She bopped her head back and forth and it was very obvious she wanted to shimmy her shoulders as well, but didn't. Villanelle's grin widened into a toothy, open one, excited to see Eve so comfortable with her that she would launch into song. Eve's hand settled back on her thigh as she sang, tapping her fingers to the tune. Then shaking her leg a little. When Villanelle glanced over, she wiggled her brows at her.

“What?” Villanelle laughed, but then caught on that she wanted her to join. She made a face, but Eve's energy was infectious, and she burst out at the chorus with her, halfway through, “... This is where I long to be, la isla bonita!”

When the song finished, it became a moment of laughter between the two... until the next song came on. And the one after that. For five additional songs they both knew every single word and sang together poorly but with joy. At the end of the fifth, Villanelle pulled the car off on to a dim dirt road, giggling as she turned the volume down and looking to Eve, whose cheeks were slightly flushed.

“You really like 80s music, huh?” Eve asked, amusement in her features.

“Yeah. We only got like, four channels on the TV we had when I was little, and one of them had music videos that came on in the middle of the night. When I couldn't sleep I would always either go outside to watch the moon or go and watch music videos. I don't think it was even a channel we were supposed to get, it came in all scratchy.” Villanelle explained as she turned the car off, smiling. “Okay, time to look at that leg.”

“Maybe that explains your love of big hair.” Eve suggested, laughing.

“... Yeah, maybe it does.” Villanelle snickered, opening her door. She left it cracked so the light inside would stay on, going around to Eve's side.

“You don't have to check it again, you know. It's holding up pretty well.” Eve watched her as she opened the door, biting her lip lightly.

“Mm, I do though. I couldn't clean it very well before, but now I have better supplies. I don't want you to get an infection, so no complaining.” Villanelle insisted. “In the center there's a kit, can you grab it?”

“Yeah.” Eve mumbled, leaning over to get it, handing it over and looking as Villanelle dropped to her knees in the dirt.

“Why do you look so worried?” Villanelle noticed the look, frowning up at her.

“I'm not!” Eve defended quickly, shaking her head and shifting to the side to lean her legs out of the car. She kept them together, tight.

“Did you find another cut or something that I missed? Why are you sitting that way?” Villanelle began to worry, checking her legs over.

“No, just that one.”

Villanelle frowned at her. Heavily, and with purpose. She hoped the weight of her frown made Eve tell her what the issue was, but it seemed ineffective. Sighing, she opened the med kit and began to lay out the contents. She was hoping for something better to stitch her with, but failing that, she hoped to at least find butterfly closures. She didn't trust the thread to hold well enough, but with the closures at least there would be a fail-safe. Bandages of varying sizes and uses, tiny scissors, a pair of one use gloves, antiseptic, triple antibiotics, alcohol pads, some anti-swelling pills, medical tape, gauze, cotton swabs... And butterfly closures! She grinned, and set them, along with the antibiotics, alcohol pads, and gauze, on Eve's lap. She put the gloves on, looking up at her.

“Okay, this is gonna sting. I gotta clean it out and put new closures on it.” Villanelle warned as she opened several alcohol pads. “Try not to tense up too much, okay? You can like, pull my hair or punch me if you gotta.”

“I'm not doing either of those things. How about you hold my hand instead?” Eve suggested, laughing. “You can clean it with the other. Or let me do it.”

“Okay, that's fair.” Villanelle smirked, bringing a hand up once they were opened. Eve took it, and Villanelle got to work cleaning her up. To her credit, Eve only gave a soft initial hiss when the wound was cleaned out, and squeezed her hand for support. She worked as quickly as she could, and smiled when she had finished. “There we go. More clean! Now... I need my hand back for this part.”

Eve said nothing, letting her hand go and nodding. One of her hands braced on the seat behind her, so the other, now free, was set down. First on the seat, then on her thigh, and then, unable to stop herself from fidgeting, she put it on Villanelle's head, stroking her hair gently. Villanelle's brows furrowed at the action, but she thought nothing of it as she applied the antibiotic ointment with a cotton swab and opened the closures. Being petted in such a way as she tended to Eve's wound was... nicer than she expected. Eve's fingers in her hair, gently working out the tangles that had appeared over the last few hours – that was nice. It was comforting, and she found herself loving the attention. She always loved being the center of attention, but she never craved it more than from Eve. Since the first time they met in the bathroom of a hospital, she had found herself wanting nothing more succinctly than to be in Eve's orbit in some way. She had also found that she craved her attention differently than she did with anyone else.

It wasn't just sexual, or because of fascination. She didn't just want Eve to look at her and find her beautiful but aloof, the way others did. She didn't just want Eve to desire her. She wanted to occupy her mind, her thoughts. Was it selfish to want such a thing? Or was that part of being in love? She was quickly realizing that she may never have loved Anna or Nadia at all – or at least loved them in a much more shallow way. Her love for Nadia was a puddle after a heavy rain, and for Anna it was a little lake fed by mountain streams. For Eve, it was an ocean with no end on the horizon, with endless depths to explore. There was no end to the questions she had about her, or the things that she wanted to do with her.

“You've got a far away look in your eyes.” Eve said.

“That's just how I look. Stunningly beautiful but far away. Unobtainable...” Villanelle offered a little smirk, unable to do anything but deflect from the possibility of actually voicing what was on her mind.

“I would say I have a good argument against unobtainable.” Eve returned the look, chuckling and shifting her legs a little.

“Well, of course. You're special. Here, stretch out your leg a little, see how it feels.” She moved a little to give her space, bringing a hand up to rest on the knee on the other side.

“Feels good. Better. Thanks.” Eve said, giving it the tiniest of stretches.

“Eve. Stretch more. You don't have to be afraid to spread your legs around me, baby.” Villanelle teased.

“I'm not afraid, I'm just...” Eve trailed off.

“Eve? Are you turned on? Because I've said it before and I'll say it again – any time, any place.” She raised her brows, turning to look at her. She went so far as to lift her dress a little, and then her eyes went wide. “Oh! So that's why. Hello, beautiful.”

Eve smacked her hand and pushed her dress down to conceal herself – she had taken off her panties at some point like she had mentioned she might on the train. “Stop that!”

Grinning, she shifted a little closer, hands on her knees, looking up at her. “Relax, I'm not gonna do anything you don't want me to. But you do want me to, I think.”

“You're full of yourself.” Eve muttered. She brought her hand back up to Villanelle's hair, pushing it out of her face.

“You could be full of me too.” She laid her chin on Eve's knee, looking up at her. She bit her lower lip and raised her brows, grinning around her teeth. Her words made Eve laugh and put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

“Jesus Christ, you have a line for everything, don't you?”

“I do. It's a talent. I have many talents.” She grinned, trailing her fingers from Eve's knee up her thigh. Eve's eyes slid shut, but she stopped her hand with her own.

“As much as I really, **really** want to learn about your talents, I don't think it's the best time.” Eve sighed, and looked down at her.

“It's the middle of the night and we're on a nowhere road...” Villanelle raised a brow, giving her thigh a squeeze. She was fidgeting at the very thought of being able to put her tongue on her.

“It's less the location, more... I feel kinda gross right now. And based on where you're sitting, I uhm... I don't want your first, uh, face to face, so to speak, experience with my...” Eve trailed off, apparently unable to say it out loud.

“You can say pussy. It's not hard. It's a nice word, one of my favorites.” Villanelle grinned, kissing her knee.

“You're the worst, do you know that?” Eve laughed. “I want it to be pleasant for you, too, you know. That's why I think it should wait until we get to Paris, at least. So I'm not so gross.”

“I promise you it would be very, _very_ pleasant for me, regardless of what shape you think you're in. But if you're self-conscious, I don't want to make it worse, so okay.” Villanelle agreed, kissing her leg again before pulling away. “We can postpone this meeting for now.” She then hesitated, looking at her before actually standing. “... So no fingers either?”

“Get in the car, Villanelle.”

“Okay, okay!”


	11. FRANCE; Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V and E make it to Paris and start to gather supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday.
> 
> So I'm curious as to how people are feeling about the pacing in this; should I skip ahead more or do you guys like the admittedly long tangents and softness I tend to go off on to? Just wanna make sure I keep people engaged and I know I tend to get caught up in feelings. :P
> 
> Enjoy <3

“Can't we just go into a store and buy clothes? You know, like people who aren't criminals?” Eve muttered, side-eyeing her from her seat on the passenger side.

“This is way easier, Eve. If we go into a store looking like this someone might call the cops. We both look like we got beat up, you have a rip in the hip of your dress and no panties on, my dress is shredded to hell... Also, we're in a stolen car with stolen money, stolen clothes, and I killed a guy on a train like eight hours ago. We're definitely criminals already, there's no need to put on airs.” Villanelle smiled at her hesitation, looking in to the laundromat. It was a 24 hour place, which was useful because it was only a little before eight in the morning and nothing else was really opened.

“God, remind me not to plead morality with you. But don't you think we run the risk of getting the cops called on us if we wander into this place and steal stuff from the dryers?” Eve was tired, and clearly cranky. The ride to Paris had been without incident, but Eve hadn't been able to sleep – mainly because Villanelle had insisted she stay up and talk to her.

“I shouldn't have to remind you not to plead morals with me, all things considered.” Villanelle pointed out with a smirk.

“Shut up. I'm tired and you didn't let me sleep.” Eve still smiled, though, staring out the window at the laundromat.

“Cranky baby.” Villanelle purred, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I'll go in and get things for us, okay? I'll just look like I'm doing a walk of shame.”

“Are you sure? Do you need me to...” Eve trailed off, frowning as she tried to figure out what she could offer to do and realizing there was nothing.

“I need you to stay in the car and make sure nobody steals it, okay? We stole it fair and square.” Villanelle smirked, pulling the much abused jacket and bag from between them, glancing them over. They were both in dire straits, the jacket filthy and wrinkled from the ground, bag ripped from the tumble off the train, but both would serve them one last time before Villanelle laid them to rest. Opening the door and stepping out, she brushed away as much of the dirt from the jacket as she could manage and pulled it on. It was a little tight around her shoulders, which were broader than Eve's, but it covered the tears in her dress enough to detract from any notice she might get otherwise.

“Be careful.” Eve mumbled as she stepped out.

“It's just a laundry, Eve. Worry less, hm?” Villanelle said it with affection. Eve leaned over to look up and out at her.

“Don't tell me what to do. Worrying about you has become one of my dominant personality traits.” She furrowed her brows, a cute line of wrinkled skin on the bridge of her beautiful nose appearing.

“That's very sexy of you. Really.” Villanelle leaned down to kiss her briefly, then moved away and shut the door.

“Hey!” Eve protested as it was closed six inches from her face.

Villanelle grinned, blowing her a kiss through the window. She ran a hand back over her hair to smooth it enough to bind it into a quick, messy bun. Keeping her hair up had served in the past to make her come across less threatening and less approachable at the same time. It gave her the air of busy young wife out running errands, in a rush to make the most of the morning. That morning, she was Simone, a beautiful girl from the countryside who was new to Paris with her childhood love and already adoring the big city, though flustered by its scale and smell. Her lover worked while she kept the home and all that entailed. Checking herself in the mirror, Villanelle massaged her cheeks and temples at the same time, widening her eyes and adopting a gentle, pleased expression before standing and heading across the street, bag over her shoulder.

She didn't expect to really encounter anybody so early, save a few stragglers from the early morning or people rushing to jam their things into a machine before work. Slipping in, she found a bench to sit on, crossing her legs and arranging her skirt properly – making sure to make one of the rips look more like a feature and less like a mistake. She kept her head stationary, eyes wandering the machines to see what she was working with. She didn't need too much, just some trousers and a shirt for Eve and maybe herself if she couldn't find a decent dress. Villanelle at least had underwear still to make a dress possible without flashing her goods in a strong breeze. That was for Eve's eyes only, when she decided she wanted to see in better detail. Or when she decided she was going to strip down in front of her and make her look because she wanted to be seen.

Maybe that night they could get a hotel room. Once Villanelle located one of her dead drops, they would have ample funds enough to do so. Tucked away behind a brick wedged into the side of an old apartment building in a residential district was a thin metal container holding enough money to get them where they needed to go in America. In another spot, beneath the streets in the catacombs, there was another cache jammed up inside the brain cavity of a specific skull under a specific street. There was enough there to buy them a boat, if that's what they needed to get to America. If either of them had been compromised, somehow, she had yet another in Le Havre, buried in the wooded portion of a local cemetery. Maybe she would manage to get all three over the next few days, so that they could really make a life for themselves out in Alaska.

Villanelle had dead drops all over Europe, in every country she had killed within the borders of. Her love of expensive clothing and fancy things was never trumped by her paranoia of being forced into a life of poverty; a percentage of her cash pay was always squirreled into a box or a tin (or a skull, as it were) to be collected at later dates. It was something of a retirement plan, and she had been a high earner for several years. She was perfectly fine with others assuming she spent everything on frivolities when she was really somewhat shrewd about her finances. If she had to travel for her employers, they paid for it. If she needed housing, they paid for it. It was all business expenses, and she had the skills to justify her demands. She used the credit cards the Twelve had given her for necessities to buy many of the things she wanted in favor of burying her cash somewhere. Cash was easy, exchangeable, and virtually untraceable. She could _control_ her cash.

Villanelle focused on a machine. She couldn't tell quite what was in it, but there was a good mixture of bright colors and muted ones – like her and Eve. She was bold, brash, and loud, and Eve was thoughtful, specific and moody. But loud worked on Eve as well, and moody worked on Villanelle... her shoulders jerked as a buzz denoted the end of the dryer's cycle, knocking her out of her color based pondering. She stood and moved towards it, looking around to see if the buzzer had gotten anyone else's attention, seeking out the owner of the clothing. Once it was clear, she opened the machine and began to paw through the hot fabric, yanking free a few pieces from the tumbled ball. A shirt, a pair of leggings, a pair of trousers, and a skirt. She fished through again, pulling out another piece – a blouse this time, baby pink and ruffled at the collar. The clothing must belong to some young couple; she couldn't help but grin imagining Eve wearing some of it. She jammed as much of it as she could into the bag and slipped back out, moving to the car.

Eve watched her cross the street, smiling when she saw her. It was a delight that the sight of her made Eve smile, now, where before the feelings had always been so mixed. They always wanted to see one another in the past, but there was always some outside force bearing down on them, making their meetings brief and sometimes all too bitter. Of course, sometimes they just hurt one another without prompting, emotionally or otherwise. Now, to see Eve smile at her approach... her heart fluttered, an excited arrhythmia, compelling her to pull Eve's door open to lean in to kiss her. Eve snorted a laugh, pulling away at her enthusiasm. Villanelle persisted, practically climbing on top of her, grinning wildly.

“Wrong side, weirdo – V! Cut it out!” Eve laughed, but pulled away no further, surrendering to Villanelle's insistence on giving her a kiss.

“There, was that so hard? It was my payment for getting you clothes.” She grinned, leaning back out of the car and moving to the driver's side.

“I'm paying you now?” Eve remarked, making a noise as Villanelle dumped the clothing into her lap. She shut the door before beginning to look over what was brought, head tilting. “Did you rob children? These look like something a teenager would wear.”

“I take affection as payment, it's easy enough and you don't need pockets to hold it. I don't need very much.” Villanelle smirked, glancing her way. “But if you're ever looking to overpay me for future services, I'm happy to drive into an alley so we can -”

“Villanelle. Are you just horny constantly? Is this what I have to expect for the rest of my life?” Eve laughed, holding up the leggings. “Can I wear these with my stitches? The trousers would fall right off me.”

“I wouldn't say it's constant. I'm just always ready for whatever happens. You're very, very sexy, so I'm just making sure I'm not missing any opportunities in case you're shy about wanting something.” Villanelle reasoned, and nodded. “You can wear them, the bandage will protect the stitching.”

“You don't have to worry about me being shy, V. I'm not some twenty something tourist you just convinced to come home with you.” Eve smirked. With her unbound arm, she pulled the seat back as far as it would go and began the tedious process of trying to put leggings on with one hand.

“Hey, I'm an opportunist and I didn't have to convince them.” Villanelle pouted as she drove slowly, shrugging. “Do you want help?”

“Do you just let anybody present themselves as an opportunity? No, I have it – well, actually, can you hold this side so I can get my leg in?” Eve asked, stretching the fabric towards her.

“You don't need to worry about me cheating on you, Eve. I only want you, ever.” She insisted, frowning at her but bringing a hand down to hold the waistline of the leggings as requested. “Ever since I met you, whenever I would sleep with someone that wasn't you, I always imagined it was you because that was the only way I could even enjoy it.”

“I'm a little scared to ask how many someones you were imagining were me.” Eve mumbled, pushing her leg in and smiling. “So I'm not going to, because then I'll get jealous.”

“Oh? Are you a jealous person?” Villanelle grinned lightly at the thought, returning both hands to the wheel.

“I never thought I was.” Eve said, pulling her seat back up.

“Did something change about that?”

“... Yes. You changed it. You're...” Eve exhaled heavily, shaking her head for a moment. “You're gorgeous, and charming, and it's easy for you to make people fall for you. I've seen you do it – I've seen you make yourself suit what someone wants. Sometimes I wonder if you did it with me on purpose. It sort of makes me worry, if any of this makes sense.”

Eve's revelation was strange to think of, if only because Villanelle completely understood it when she voiced it. Villanelle had always had a knack for drawing people in. She knew how to smile in a way that made men want to possess or protect her. She knew how to do her makeup to come across as approachable, vain, and brainless. There were few men she had met that she couldn't make fall all over themselves for her, if she had need of them. With women, she made them comfortable, giving them a way to project what they wanted on to her – she could be delicate enough to make them feel safe, or rough enough to take control of them. She molded herself based on their expectations, if she wanted them. It was so much easier to get people to reach out to her if she did it, and she needed that skill for her work – part of being an assassin was being a professional liar and master of disguise. Those who saw her as she really was usually didn't get to see it until their souls were retreating their bodies.

 _Had_ she done it with Eve? Had she molded herself for her, adjusting her personality to draw the older woman to her? Had she unknowingly curated herself to meet Eve's specifications? She had, of course, looked her up and tried to figure her out at first, seeking out what few details Eve had left some trail of online and otherwise. She remembered clearly how little she managed to dig up, though. Basic details; husband, career, home address, things like that. She didn't put her personality on display on the internet, though, which was rare. She had found out that her maiden name was Yang from an old article she had published through her old University, but the article itself was even impersonal, purely academic in nature and giving nothing of the person writing it. Meeting Eve and spending time with her, around her, in her atmosphere had given little, too. She _did_ have to draw her in through other means, mainly gifts of varying nature.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it became that she couldn't lie to Eve to give her what she wanted exactly, because what Eve seemed to want was who she _actually_ was. _Eve_ had sought her out so many times. She had traced the patterns of her kills. She had managed to profile her despite Villanelle's aptitude for seeming random. Eve had chased her to multiple countries and it had thrilled her to try and avoid her, so much so that she couldn't bear actually avoiding her and left her little hints and clues. If she really wanted to disappear from Eve's gaze back then, she surely could have tried a little better. When she had thought Eve had forgotten about her, she was hired – by Eve! - to kill her. It was all ridiculous and intriguing.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Eve asked again, softly this time; Villanelle's silence must have unsettled her. She blinked, and shook her head.

“It makes sense, what you're saying. I guess it was part of the job, to make myself different people. A lot of the time I didn't understand how people acted or felt, so I would just pretend to make them trust me.” She said, scanning the buildings as they passed for the one she had in mind.

“You were very good at it. So you can understand why I'm worried, right?” Eve said, looking out where Villanelle was looking. “Where are we going?”

“I was trained to be good at it. But you shouldn't be worried.” She smiled a gentle, pleased smile. “We're getting some of my money.”

“I shouldn't?” Eve asked, wary.

“You shouldn't. Because I can't figure out what the fuck you want, so I've never been able to lie about myself to you.” Villanelle told her – Eve laughed, hard.

“Oh! Well, okay.” She snorted, leaning back in her seat. “I didn't think I was that mysterious.”

“I think it's because we're a lot alike, Eve... that we're the same in a lot of ways. I think that you know me better than I know me.” She bit her lip, trying not to find the entire premise of being so _known_ by someone terrifying.

“You think?” Eve asked.

“I know. You never gave me any chances to be a fake person around you. You see through me when I'm lying, and you figure out everything about me... you make it look so easy to figure me out, which I hate a little. I wonder if I'm that easy to figure out with everyone else or just you.” She said it all rather quickly, in a manner similar to the way Eve rambled when something was forcing itself out of her.

“You weren't easy to figure out. You're very complicated, don't worry – I'm still trying to sort everything out.” Eve reassured, chuckling softly. She reached out to place a hand on Villanelle's thigh, gently squeezing it. The motion made her bite her lip, amused at the timing – she was pulling into the alley where her dead drop was hopefully still stashed.

“Well, if you want to know anything about me...” She hummed, watching as Eve realized they were now in an alley. Her hand jerked away from her thigh, and she glared.

“We're not having sex in an alley. I need a shower.” Eve grumbled in irritation.

“Eve! You're assuming things again. That's not why we're here. This is where some of my money is. I think. It might be one street over, hard to remember when my girlfriend is touching me...” She teased.

“Girlfriend...” Eve repeated the word back, which gave Villanelle pause.

“Should I say future wife instead?” She asked, joking to conceal any trace of worry that might otherwise infiltrate her voice.

“Girlfriend is good. I like it. I've been saying it for a while now anyway.” Eve shook her head, laughing. “Weird, considering I'm still married. On paper, at least.”

“Mm.” Villanelle pursed her lips pointedly, nodding a little. Eve was still married and that made her want to vomit, so she didn't care to acknowledge it further. She instead leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Be right back.”

“What if someone took it?” Eve asked, looking to her as she got out of the car.

“Then I'll have to find the other ones.” Villanelle told her.

“... How many do you have?”

“In Paris? Two. Close to Paris? Another two.” She did have one in Lyon, but had no intention of going back that way.

“How much...”

“Eve, I'll show you when I come back.” She grinned, moving away to the wall and beginning to feel at it.

She had placed the cache three years prior, during her first working trip to Paris. The money she had received was for the assassination of a high level businessman and his mistress. She had skewered them both with the sharpened tip of a flag pole while they embraced, leaving them propped up on the balcony of the man's business. All she really remembered was how difficult it was to actually **get** the pole through them both – she had to knock the girl out to do it since she struggled to even get it through the man. She had rigged it up after to make sure the French flag caught the breeze. That kill had felt like decades ago, and it wasn't one she would have tried in recent history. Back then, she was eager to impress, to make a mark on the killing industry. It was effective, and she had made a definite name for herself... something that was haunting her now. Maybe if she had avoided being such an overachiever at her job, she and Eve wouldn't be in the situation they were in.

Then again, she might never have met her if she hadn't carried out such dramatic hits.

Villanelle smiled as her fingers caught on the side of a brick in a familiar way. There was a little divot where the tips of her pinky and index finger fit perfectly. She gripped the spot and pulled, pleased when it barely budged. It was a good sign; the house had settled and the brick had not been moved. She put a foot on the wall at an angle and pulled harder, grunting softly with effort. It took a few minutes for it to dislodge enough for Villanelle to be able to stick her hand behind it, feeling around. She grinned as her fingers felt the lip of a container, sighing in relief. No one had gotten to it. Another few minutes passed as she hammered away at the brick with bare hands and effort, giving a squeak as the brick fully dislodged and flung itself down the alley some. With some additional effort she pulled out the container and moved back to the car, slipping back in and grinning to her lover.

“Still there! Here, give me that skirt and that ugly blouse, I'm sick of wearing this. You go through that while I change.” Villanelle said, triumphant.

“I should probably get out of this, too.” Eve mumbled, plucking at the fabric of her dress a moment before handing off the articles of clothing. Villanelle made short work of changing, getting out of the car to do so. She didn't have much shame, and there was no one around.

“Holy shit!” Eve gasped from in the car, peeking out to her again. “V, that's... a lot. There's gotta be – jesus – seven thousand in there.”

“Is there anything else? I can't remember what I put in that one.” Villanelle asked, smiling.

“A couple of cards and a passport.” Eve told her.

Slipping back into the car in clothes that felt significantly less disgusting, Villanelle stretched her arms and looked to her. “Toss the cards out the window, they can track those. In the other drop I have there's double that amount, easily... I hope it's still there. It's been two years since I checked it.”

“Does this mean we can get a hotel room and bathe?” Eve asked, eyes wide.

“God, please? Can we go right now to do that and get better clothes later? I really need a nap.” Villanelle agreed.

Removing her arm from the sling, Eve caught her cheeks in her hands and kissed her hard.

“God, yes! That was the sexiest thing you've ever said.”

“And we can order room service...” Villanelle purred against her lips.

Eve gave a dramatic moan, letting herself fall across her lap.


	12. FRANCE; Paris (Hotel Helussi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve check in to a hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! 
> 
> Comments are, as always, loved.

“You remember the plan, right?” Villanelle smiled to her as they approached the doors of the building.

“I do. Work your magic, I'm so ready.” Eve reassured her, clearing her throat and neutralizing her expression.

The hotel they chose was the first one they came across, both desperate for the simple comforts it would offer. It was a relatively small place with limited rooms, but smaller places tended to ask less questions than ones run by corporations. She held Eve's hand as they walked in, holding a couple of smaller bills in her other. She trained her expression carefully, sure to look a little shell-shocked so that when the attendant at the desk saw them, their battered appearances made more sense. The man blinked at their approach, but gave a polite smile, greeting them with a bowed head.

“Hello, welcome to Hotel Helussi... How may I assist you?” The man said, his accent thick but his English clear. He was tall and thin, with a boyish face. It wouldn't be difficult to win him over.

“I – we need a room for the night, please.” Villanelle mumbled, glancing to Eve. For this conversation, she adopted a gentle Irish accent; in her experience, Parisians tended to favor them as tourists over the British. Eve looked anxious, but it was purposeful. The man looked to his computer and looked over the information.

“Of course; we have some rooms available already, and check in is at 2pm. The base rate is €90 for the night, €99 with breakfast included, plus a stay tax of €3.76 due after check in...” The man told them with a courteous smile.

“Of course.” Villanelle gave a slow nod, opening her hand and looking at what she had there. It was about a hundred, with a few single euro coins. “I, um – is there any way we can check in early?”

“I'm afraid not, Miss, we have to allow the cleaning staff time to turn out the rooms.” The man shook his head. “In order to book a room, we'll need a credit or bank card to attach to it, along with identification...”

“We don't have that, sir. We need a room. I can give you our names, but -” Villanelle sighed, closing her eyes briefly. At her side, Eve broke into a sob; a bit dramatic, but it was effective. Villanelle opened her eyes and pulled their hands apart to wrap her arms around her instead, sighing and kissing her forehead, mumbling soft reassurances to her.

“I'm afraid we're unable to allow reservations without proper identification and a card to attach... is she okay?” The man's face softened at the sound of Eve's wretchedly realistic sob.

“We were in an accident. We – we're on our honeymoon, and our rental was hit – it had everything in it... our cards, our ID, our phones, our clothes, everything. The whole thing went up in flames! We were lucky to get out of it alive. The police were barely any help, they basically kicked us out of the station after we went there from the hospital. I don't – I don't want to make any accusations, but it seemed like it's because we're both women. The only reason we even have this is because she had it in her pockets. Please sir, we could just use a little kindness today.” Villanelle rambled it out quickly, eyes filling with tears as she spoke and letting one slip out of the corner by the end of her thought.

“Oh, god. I'm so sorry.” The man mumbled, lowering his eyes. He was touched by Villanelle's words, looking at his computer.

“We can pay, sir, and I can give you all the information you need –“ Villanelle squeezed Eve's uninjured shoulder lightly. She was proud of her performance, feeling her chest trembling with fake tears against her.

“Let me just...” The man looked at the screen again, sighing. The plan was working.

“Even if you have to refer us to another place, that's fine, I just... If we could even use your phone to call her mum and get her to wire us money...” Villanelle gave a soft but weighted sigh, resting her face against Eve's hair.

“I think I can get you in, okay? I just need your information.” He said, glancing up at her briefly.

“Oh, thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means to us – we're just exhausted, and we need to clean up, and...” Villanelle allowed herself to trail off as the man gave a little smile.

“Your information, please. I shouldn't be doing this.” The man sounded hesitant, so Villanelle spoke quickly.

“Of course. Fiona and Evangeline O'Shea... What else do you need?” She asked.

“Um – home address, please.”

“37 James St, Lagavooren, Drogheda, Ireland. Lagavooren spelled L-a-g-a-v-o-o-r-e-n... Drogheda is D-r-o-g-h-e-d-a...” She smiled softly, giving the man the address of a surprisingly good Italian place she had eaten at the last time she was in Ireland. She stroked Eve's back as she spoke, hearing her give a whine. “Shh, shh, it's alright. We'll be back home soon, darlin'. Your mother'll be here by tomorrow and she'll give everyone hell then make us come home.”

“I ruined our honeymoon!” Eve sobbed, looking up at her for a moment. Villanelle smiled at her and pulled her back against her chest.

“Nonsense. This kind man is helping us, and we made it out alive. That's what matters, right?” She shushed her gently, arms around her shoulders.

“Mrs. O'Shea, your total will be €74.27; I was able to get the price down for you a bit... why don't the two of you go and get breakfast while it's still out? When you come back I'll have a room key for you.” The man at the desk said softly, interrupting what he was lead to believe was a tender moment between traumatized newlyweds.

“Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to get in trouble on our account, sir. What's your name?” Villanelle said, looking to him as she held Eve.

“Daniel, miss. I won't get in any trouble, don't worry.” He reassured her.

“Daniel. Thank you.” She said, gently pulling away from Eve to pay, counting out the amount he had quoted them. She offered it without breaking away from Eve, lending to the impression that she had to continue comforting her. “Come on, beautiful. Let's get some food in us, I'm starving and I'm sure you are too.”

“I'm happy to help.” Daniel smiled, moving out from behind the counter to lead them to the dining area, where bits of breakfast fare were still being set out in regular intervals.

Eve made no effort to hide her joy, giving a soft, high whine at the sight of a tray of croissants. Villanelle grinned and removed her arm from around her, encouraging her to go and gorge herself. Neither of them had really eaten since the train station, and energy was at an all time low. Villanelle gently thanked Daniel, who bowed his head and dismissed himself. She looked around with a sigh, grin returning quickly as she spotted the pastry tray, suddenly aware of a growling in her belly. Eve was already off in a frenzy, having found a plate and stuffed it full of fruit and three croissants. She had balanced a smaller plate with a pile with meats and eggs, and held the whole thing to her chest as she zeroed in on the coffee selection. Villanelle laughed at the sight of her.

“Baby... do you want me to carry anything? Or get you the coffee before you drop everything?” She offered, and Eve offered in return nothing but a passing glare. She was a woman on a mission, and it was a delight to watch.

“Okay, okay. You're adorable.” Villanelle commented, a bit under her breath. She tore her eyes away only long enough to make herself a plate and slide into an unoccupied seat on the far side of the room, glancing back to make sure Eve saw where she was heading.

“Oh my god everything looks so good.” Eve said as she joined her, almost dropping her plate in the process. “No coffee?”

“I don't drink it. I like the way it smells, but it leaves such a gross taste in my mouth.” Villanelle stuck her tongue out slightly, shaking her head.

“I can barely function without it. I can do tea sometimes, but it isn't the same kick in the ass as coffee is.” Eve said, giving another little moan at the first sip. “Oh my god.”

“You have got to stop making those noises. You're killing me.” Villanelle laughed, taking a sip of her juice. She ate a piece of melon and sighed, closing her eyes at the taste. After barely eating for two days it felt like her body was waking up at the idea of sustenance. “I feel like I haven't eaten in a month.”

“It feels like we've been at this for months.” Eve agreed. “Even if it's only been... what, two days?”

“Yeah. Two days we've been together.” Villanelle said, stuffing the rest of the melon piece in her mouth. It was too big and she looked ridiculous, but she didn't care because Eve had just stuffed so much of her first croissant into her mouth that her cheeks puffed out a little.

“God, two days and I'm already putting out. That's a new and shameful record for me, you know.” Eve covered her full mouth with a hand as she spoke, giving an altogether undignified snort.

Villanelle was entranced by her, in all her wonderful sloppiness. She wanted to see every part of Eve. She wanted to get her drunk just to see how she would act. Would she dance? Would she get slutty? Was she a weepy drunk? Was she overly composed? Was she cuddly, or aloof? She wanted to fuck her for hours just to see how she reacted after neither could find the energy to continue. Would she roll over and fall asleep? Did she like pillow talk? Would she care about cleaning up or just fall asleep in the mess and wake up in the morning whining about it? There was an entire universe inside of Eve that Villanelle wanted to explore. She wanted to learn every bit of her. She wanted to see the darkness in her as well as the light; the beautiful and the ugly that every person held, sinner or saint.

“I'm very hard to resist. You held out as long as you could, don't feel bad.” Villanelle purred, reaching a hand across the table to stroke her hand over Eve's, and stealing the rest of her croissant in the process. Before Eve could react, she took a bite of it.

“Hey! I was eating that.” Eve pouted heavily, glancing forlorn at her stolen treat.

“You made it look so good.” Villanelle spoke with her mouth full, grinning and reaching across with the last bit to feed it to her.

“You're gross.” Eve reached forward to take the bite into her mouth, eyes rolling back and lips slipping shut as she chewed.

“You love me. There's no take backs from that.” Villanelle pointed out, licking her lips.

“I don't plan on it.” Eve reassured, opening her eyes and looking across to her, “.. Are you going to judge me if I jam food into my face so fast I get a stomachache?”

“No, no. Go ahead. I like seeing you eating and we both need our energy back.”

“You like seeing me eat?” Eve's brows furrowed a little at the statement, even as she stuffed a comically large piece of omelet into her mouth.

“A lot of women are so shy about eating around people. Like someone's gonna say they're fat or sloppy or something stupid like that. I feel like you're... comfortable around me, 'cause you're eating how you want to eat. Or you just don't give a fuck how people feel about the way you eat, which is also very, very sexy of you.” She explained. It was an odd thing to put into words, but the smile Eve gave her denoted understanding.

“How would you feel if I told you it was both?”

“You're comfortable with me **and** don't give a fuck how people feel about it?”

“It's both.” Eve clarified with a nod.

“I think I would feel like I have to ask what season you want to be married to me in. I'm partial to springtime weddings, but autumn is just as good.” Villanelle grinned, and Eve snorted another laugh.

“It's that easy to get you to want to marry me? God, I should have been dating women earlier in life.”

“Mm, why didn't you?” Villanelle tilted her head to the side inquisitively, wondering if Eve had ever been open to the idea.

“Well...” Eve leaned back in her seat, thoughtful for a second. She took another bite of the omelet, following it up with a piece of sausage, taking the time to chew as she thought out her words. “I've always been attracted to women but for the longest time I just thought that **everyone** was. I thought everyone was but that you had to be with the opposite sex just as, like, a rule. Also, my parents were both pretty conservative about things like that, so I just took those feelings and buried them. They were never outwardly homophobic or anything, it just wasn't discussed. Ever.”

“Everyone should be attracted to women. They're objectively better.” Villanelle chuckled softly. “That makes sense, though.”

“By the time I was old enough to not care about offending my parents with my sexuality, I had already married Niko. And, well, you know.” Eve rolled her eyes.

“He never talked to you about it? Never bothered you for a threesome?” Villanelle pried – she was allowed to pry, as far as she was concerned. She wanted to know if she had any women she had to blow out of the water with her skills. She already knew Niko was nowhere near her in terms of prowess.

“Ha!” Eve covered her mouth quickly as the laugh shot out of her, shaking her head quickly, “Niko? With more than one woman? He's a maths teacher, V. Nothing about him is adventurous. We went to the same bed and breakfast in Yorkshire for eight years in a row for holiday. He thought the shade of green I wanted to paint my office was 'a bit garish' – it was olive.”

“No wonder you ran away with me.” Villanelle was in no way surprised by Eve's description of Niko as the boring, vanilla mess that she knew him to be.

“Hush. He's a good man and hopefully he can move on now... maybe he'll find someone just as boring as him. Maybe he and Gemma will bond over this. They can have boring babies together.” Eve shook her head, an unrecognizable emotion passing through her features. Villanelle chose not to tell her about Gemma's fate; it was best now not to dwell on the past.

“Did you want babies?” Villanelle's brows raised at the mention of kids.

“Me? God no.” Eve laughed, reaching across to pat her hand. “Don't worry, I'm not going to make you bear kids for us.”

“Thank god.” Villanelle exhaled heavily, nose wrinkling at the thought. “I can't even... imagine that. Me having a baby. Ew.”

“I don't mind kids, I just strongly believe that I'd be an awful mother.”

“I would be a good dog mom.” Villanelle offered, grinning.

“Maybe we can adopt some dogs, then. That I can handle. Maybe we can find a young couple when we're in Alaska with kids that we can be the cool aunts to. Well, you'd be the cool aunt, I'd be the elderly woman you're shacking up with.” Eve smirked.

“Nonsense. We'll both be the cool aunts. I'll deck out your wheelchair and dress you stunning.” Villanelle laughed.

“As long as you plan on keeping me around, I'm happy with that.”

“Of course I do.” Villanelle reached over to take her hand. “We jumped off a _train_ , Eve. That's basically a commitment ceremony in my eyes.”

“Okay, okay.” Eve squeezed her hand, lowering her eyes with a chuckle. When she looked up, it was with curiosity. “Have you always been only into women?”

“Hm? Well, I've had sex with men.” Villanelle said, non-committal.

“Did you ever date one?”

“What? God no.” Villanelle hated the very idea of that sort of emotional connection where men were involved. She could do without it. But then she remembered. “Oh – wait. I did. For a few days, his name was Sebastian.”

“Really?” Eve seemed intrigued, leaning in a bit. “What was he like?”

“Uhh – I don't really remember. He smelled the perfume I used on Carla de Mann. Oopsie.” She smiled. Eve's brows raised in understanding, but she continued the line of questioning.

“Oh... well - did you actually like him?”

“He liked me.” Villanelle mumbled, shifting a bit in her seat. She didn't understand why Eve was fixated on that particular ex when she had met Anna, who was far more interesting – granted, the idea of talking about Anna turned her stomach hard, twisting her up inside in a way no man ever could. “I wanted to see what it would be like to be normal. To have a boyfriend, go out on dates with him, stuff like that.”

“.. Oh. Well, I get that, I guess. I don't think I'm a lesbian, though. Bi seems more... appropriate for me.” Eve mused, bringing another croissant to her lips.

“I'm definitely a lesbian. I've slept with guys but it was always... boring. They never get the job done for me.” Villanelle gave a nod, confident in her answer. She hadn't really thought to label it before because her relationships had never really hit the point it was hitting with Eve. There had never been such comfort, such _loyalty_. She saw Eve wherever she went since the day they had met. She dreamed about her, masturbated to the thought of her, imagined everybody that she fucked was her – and now that she had her, Villanelle felt such contentment inside. She felt so many things with Eve at her side, the hole in her heart full of her. Eve made her feel like she had a soul.

“Yeah? So all I have to do is make sure I'm not as boring as a guy and you'll be good?” Eve's thumb gently stroked over the back of her hand as she spoke.

“Eve, you're the only person who has ever made me feel so much. You could spend the whole time punching my face and I'd probably still be into it.” She told her, honest. Even the simple act of Eve's hand in hers ignited a spark in her – her imagination could take that gentle gesture to all sorts of places. She could envision pulling her in by the hand, kissing up it to her lips, dancing with her (naked, of course, to distract Eve from her terrible dancing). The possibilities were endless.

“I'm not going to punch you. I mean, unless you're into that?” Eve raised a brow as she sipped her coffee. “I don't even know what people are into anymore. I was the bride of Captain Vanilla. He felt bad smacking my ass when I **told** him I wanted it.”

“Eve, look at me.” Villanelle couldn't contain her grin. Eve looked into her eyes.

“Oh god, what? Was that too much?” She muttered.

“I promise you, Eve. I'll smack your ass and I will **not** feel bad about it. We can try whatever you want to try and I promise I won't feel bad about it.” She swore, grinning cheekily.

“Is that right.” Eve rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smirk tugging the corner of her lips. Villanelle kissed her knuckles.

“That's right.”

“What if it turns out I'm into something super weird and didn't realize it 'til now?” Eve's smirk became a bit more prominent.

“Bring it on.” Villanelle promised, kissing the back of her hand and shifting in her seat, “I'll be weird with you.”

“That's not a stretch for you. You're a strange woman.” Eve pointed out.

“And yet, you love me.” Villanelle grinned.

“Mm... We should finish eating so we can shower.” Eve pulled her hand away before Villanelle could continue the kiss-trail up it.

“So **we** can shower? Like... together?” Villanelle raised a brow, voice dropping low at the word 'together', mumbling it in as saucy a way as she could.

“I um... Well, I'm injured, so you have to help me.” Eve cleared her throat, unable to look her in the eye.

“Oh, of course. I'll help you. Whatever you need, baby. You getting full? Maybe we should take some stuff upstairs with us. You know. Get all cleaned up.”

“You just want me naked. You got eager _really_ fast.” Eve pointed out.

“You say that like it's some sort of revelation. Was that a yes, though? I can't tell with your scowly face.” She smirked, once again stealing a portion of her croissant.

“... Yes. I would be completely full if I didn't have someone stealing my food, but I guess that can't be helped.” Eve smirked.

“Well! Let's go, then.” Villanelle popped up out of her seat with little preamble, picking up and downing her juice, then taking an apple from her tray. “Here, grab some stuff to bring up... I have to play the part of Strong Stalwart Newlywed.”

“Should I get weepy again?” Eve opened her eyes a little wider, piling food into her hands.

“No, I'll just put my arm around you – stay quiet, look sleepy.”

“Already done. Easy peasy.” Eve chuckled, moving to her side.

“Just, whatever you do, try not to think too much about the fact that I plan on having you naked soon.”

“Vil, don't be a pervert. Not until we get to the room, at least.” Eve rolled her eyes.

Villanelle could only grin.


	13. FRANCE; Paris (Hotel Helussi, part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe in their ill-gotten hotel room, Villanelle and Eve get physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, here's 8k words of mostly smut, oops
> 
> Comments are appreciated.

“Do I **have** to wrap it?” Eve muttered, uselessly covering her naked crotch as Villanelle knelt on the floor of the bathroom, looking up at her.

“Yes. Have you had stitches before, Eve? You shouldn't get them wet for a while. You could get an infection.” She replied, trying her very best to avoid devouring her form with her eyes. They weren't even in the shower yet; Villanelle had insisted on checking her leg first to wrap it and make it bathing ready.

“I actually haven't.” Eve bit her lip, looking down at her. She only glanced for a moment before she looked back away, her cheeks slightly pink.

“Really? Lucky. You're having all kinds of firsts with me, huh?” Villanelle smirked as she fastened the plastic around the spot below her knee.

“Shut up.” Eve muttered, unable to look down at her again. The shade her cheeks had taken was subtle and beautiful, a natural brush of highlight against already well-defined cheekbones.

She smiled as she stood back up, gathering up the fabric of the too-loose t-shirt Eve wore and beginning to pull it off. Something about the act of undressing Eve, tending to her wounds, _caring_ for her felt so natural that it was disconcerting in its own right. She never knew she had the capacity to do so; she had never even kept a pet! She had always been admittedly selfish, even considering it a point of pride that she only needed to look out for herself. Yet with Eve, she had slipped into a more nurturing role than she had ever through herself willing or able to. It helped that Eve didn't seem too concerned with taking care of herself to begin with, from what Villanelle had observed. She ate poorly or not at all, drank more wine than water, became too fixated on work to sleep properly. And because Villanelle loved her, she couldn't abide by those poor self-care practices any longer.

“Bold of you to think that I will ever shut up, ever. I know too many languages to ever stop talking.” Villanelle purred, kissing her cheek as she removed the shirt, discarding it and immediately reaching behind her for the clasps of her bra.

“I'm perfectly capable of undressing myself, you know.” Eve offered uselessly.

“You can stop me any time – but you haven't yet. How does your shoulder feel?” Villanelle redirected her as she unfastened the clasps, gently pulling the straps forward to remove it.

“It's still pretty sore. It seems to be staying in place, though, at least.” Eve said, taking a deep breath as the bra was removed. Villanelle placed her fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to urge her to look up.

“Why do you seem so embarrassed?” She was a bit concerned; it wasn't as if she hadn't seen her naked before. She remembered every occasion of skin with a great deal of fondness, in fact.

“I'm not embarrassed. I'm, um.” Eve met her eyes, finally, “I'm nervous.”

“You're nervous?” Villanelle's head tilted, trying to understand. “What's there to be nervous about?”

“We're about to be naked. Together. In close proximity. You aren't nervous?” Eve asked, brows furrowed.

“No. Am I supposed to be?” Villanelle's brows raised in response.

“I guess you're... significantly more experienced than I am in this area...” Eve muttered, looking towards the shower.

“Are you calling me a slut?” Villanelle teased, moving away from her to turn the water on. Eve reflexively covered herself when their bodies were spaced out.

“No! I just mean – well, I **did** come to your apartment just as two girls who I'm assuming you had a threesome with were leaving, but...”

“I'm only kidding around. I can be pretty slutty, I'm not ashamed of it. Eve – if you want to shower alone, you can. If you're nervous I'll try to move too fast or something. It's just a shower.” She looked back to her, giving a soft, affectionate smile. She really hadn't intended to try anything while they were washing up. Fucking in a shower sounded nice and sensual on paper, but in reality it tended to just be a slippery, cold mess. With Eve injured, it would be more painful than anything for her, anyway. She didn't mention that showering together had been Eve's idea; she was sure she knew that and there was no need for her to be contrary to the process.

“No, no, I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous. I know you won't do anything I don't want you to... you've been... really good about that.” To her surprise, Eve bridged the distance between them and wrapped her slender arms around Villanelle's waist, resting her cheek against the back of her shoulder.

“You're the only person who's ever made me want to be good about anything.” Villanelle felt herself relaxing at the touch when she hadn't even realized she was tense to begin with, resting a hand on Eve's. She should have figured she was tense because she wasn't instantly aroused by the sight of her unclothed. Was she nervous, too, and just so out of touch with her own feelings that she was unaware of it? Or was it just that she was so unused to _having_ perceivable feelings that she could never really tell?

“Really?”

“Yeah. You tell me to do things and I _actually_ listen and do them. It's weird.” She was only half joking. She cleared her throat a little as she reached out to test the water's temperature, hyper-aware of where Eve's hands were as they took a tentative path to the button keeping her skirt on. Deft fingers popped it open and tugged it down, allowing it to pool around her ankles.

“Why do you think that is?” Eve asked. Villanelle felt the hand that had pushed her skirt away rest against her hip, where her underwear still clung to her body.

“I don't know. Maybe it's because you're sexy. Or I just... respect you? Oof. Respecting someone. That's a weirder thought, I'll stick to you being sexy and being in love with you.” Villanelle laughed, hand still under the water; the temperature was fine, but she wanted to see what Eve would do. If she would actually take the initiative to undress her more. Maybe the act would settle her nerves if Villanelle let her do it.

“Hey, I like the idea of you respecting me. We did have that talk about respect in the villa, didn't we?” Eve reminded her. Villanelle did remember it, clearer than she remembered most arguments.

“Give me a break, I'm still learning things.” She chuckled, leaning her head back until she felt it meet Eve's.

“You're doing good, you know. You've been like a totally different person since we left – you're trying really hard and that's... very sexy of you.” Eve smiled against her shoulder, gentle tugging down Villanelle's underwear.

“Yeah? You like me trying not to be a shithead?” She chuckled, bringing her other hand down to help her, pulling a leg out of them.

“You're still a jackass, but in a way more endearing way now. Definitely keep it up.” Eve stepped back to take hold of Villanelle's shirt from the bottom. Villanelle stopped her from lifting it by doing it herself.

“I got this, don't lift your arm too much.” She explained, chucking the shirt over her shoulder. Eve chuckled, hands coming to rest on her bra strap.

“God, you're so doting. It's gross.” Eve teased as she made short work of the strap, pushing it aside.

Villanelle pulled it off and took in a deep breath that mirrored the one Eve had taken when she had done the same to her. Eve placed her hands on her back, gently, gently sliding them over her shoulderblades and to her sides. The distance between them was bridged again as Eve wrapped her arms once again around her, feeling every bit of skin on their travels to her front. Her eyes slipped shut as a wave of heat spread through her core, trickling over her nerves and setting each one at the ready. There it was – the inevitable arousal. It hit deeper when Eve's hands cupped her breasts, nipples hardening within seconds.

“... You've got great tits. They're... wow.” Eve mumbled against her back, kissing the spot between her shoulders. Whatever nervousness she had entered the bathroom with seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a general appreciation for the body in front of her. Villanelle grinned, bringing her wet hand to Eve's hip.

“Come on. Let's get cleaned up.” She tapped her thigh – then exhaled slowly through pursed lips when Eve squeezed her chest once before letting go, “Wow, I can't believe I ever worried you might be totally straight.”

Eve could only laugh as Villanelle stepped into the shower, a laugh that trailed off into a gentle, distracted sigh when Villanelle turned to face her. She didn't urge her to step in with her just yet, letting Eve's eyes wander uninhibited as the shower's stream created little rivulets that traveled the topography of her body. She bit her lip a little under her scrutiny – at what felt at first like scrutiny, at least, but soon felt more like appreciation. Eve was examining her, mapping her in her mind, committing every scar and freckle to memory. She watched Eve's hands move to her face, sliding across her own cheeks and into her hair, holding the back of her neck in a curious way as dark eyes trailed from collar to ankle. Villanelle let her take her time; she was proud of her body, after all. She worked hard to keep herself in good health and as close to peak physical form as she could, all lean muscle and well moisturized skin. Eve's examination did not fail to cause a reaction in her; it was deeply exciting, and her heart rate quickened.

“... Yeah, I'm definitely not straight.” Eve mumbled, reaching a hand out. Villanelle couldn't tell if she wanted her hand taken or if she wanted to touch; she opted to reach out and take her hand to help her in.

“Good. I would hate to hear that.” Villanelle smirked, tugging her in. With the way that Eve had been hiding herself from her gaze she didn't examine her as closely as Eve had done her. That was for later.

“You have a really nice body.” Eve said as she carefully stepped into the stream. Villanelle backed out of it a little to give Eve a chance to rinse off.

“Thank you.” She chuckled, taking a little bottle of generic hotel shampoo from the recess in the shower wall and uncapping it. “I can't wait to be clean.”

“Same.” Eve took the bodywash and a wash cloth that were there to begin the process.

“Can I wash your hair?” The desire to do so was strangely intense as she looked to the smaller woman.

Her hair was rapidly flattening, curls unfurling at the introduction of warm water. It was still just as gorgeous and she _needed_ to feel it in her hands, if only to occupy them. Eve smiled, giving a silent nod. With a pleased grin, Villanelle dove into the task, emptying half of the little bottle into her hands and replacing it on the shelf. She began to work the shampoo into her hair, fingers weaving through the wet tresses to get at the roots. It was so thick and healthy that it totally occupied her, making her barely take notice of the fact that Eve had begun to wash her upper body for her. She smiled as Eve lathered her up, _definitely_ noticing the way she lingered on Villanelle's breasts. She bit her lip, massaging Eve's scalp to make herself focus.

“You really like my tits, don't you?” She teased gently.

“Can you blame me? They're really great. Way better than mine.” Eve reasoned; it made Villanelle scoff.

“Why compare them? You're beautiful.” She chided, leaning back to look down at her. Specifically her breasts.

“They're teeny. Mosquito bites.” Eve muttered, looking down as well.

“Stop criticizing my favorite person.” Villanelle warned, fingers still working through the curls.

“I'm your favorite person? Even as part of the itty bitty titty committee?” Eve smirked as she looked back up.

“You're my favorite person. And your tits are my favorite ones, too. I'm not your stupid former husband, I appreciate your body. A lot. Every part of it.” Villanelle insisted.

“Yeah? Tell me what else you like about it.”

Was that a challenge or an invitation? Villanelle licked her lips, taking the washcloth from her. She put a little bit of distance between them, stepping back to take in the sight of her. Eve no longer hid herself with her hands, affording her the opportunity to take in the sight. And what a sight it was, soaking wet and all for her viewing pleasure. Villanelle had always appreciated the bodies of older women; their experience, their strength, their asymmetry, their power. For a moment she couldn't comment, just watching her, mystified by the curves of her body, gentle and flowing. She bit her lip, shifting her hips a little and then closing her eyes. The very present urge to press her into the shower wall and pull her legs up around her hips had grown heavy in her, as if it were the only solution to the way her body was burning. She wanted to be inside of her more than she had wanted anything in such a long time.

“V?”

“I was trying to decide what to start with.” Villanelle's lie came easily, reaching out to begin to wash her body. “I can't talk about your face right, since you want details about how much I love your body?”

“Face is too easy to compliment, stay focused.” Eve smiled as Villanelle's hands moved to her shoulders, passing the cloth slowly over her skin.

“I'll just work my way down, then. I love your shoulders, and your collarbones,” Villanelle told her, moving over both parts as she mentioned them. “You have such slender shoulders, and I could drink from your collarbones.”

“You could drink from them?” Eve raised a brow. Villanelle leaned down and dragged her tongue across the notch of her right clavicle to demonstrate, drawing a confused gasp from her.

“Like that.” She explained, smirking as she rose back up. Eve's eyes had widened substantially.

“.. Oh. Okay. Can't say anyone's ever complimented that about me before.” Eve mumbled.

“I love your neck. You always hide it with your turtlenecks and that big beautiful hair, so when I see it I feel like it's a scandal. All I want to do is put my mouth on it.” She told her, fanning her fingers over her delicate pulse point. She held her by the throat for a moment but applied no pressure, biting her lip as she looked down at her. She could feel her heart rate in her throat. It was quick and hard, just the way Villanelle wanted it to be. She grinned and removed her hand, returning to the washing, moving the cloth to her armpits on either side. She gently squeezed the little bit of fat there, and Eve made an irritated noise.

“Don't tell me you love that too. No one likes pit fat.” Eve looked almost distraught at the idea.

“Oh, but you'd be wrong. I love it. And it's not even really fat, you know. There's a name for it, you know... I can't remember it right now, but remind me later - It's part of the breast, though. And remember? Your breasts are my favorite ones.” Villanelle trailed both hands down to cup them, thumbs hooked around the middles.

“I still don't quite get it.” Eve mumbled, glancing down. With the quick brush of her thumbs, her nipples hardened. Eve drew in a gasp, one hand going up to her wrists. She didn't stop her – it seemed more as if she was looking for balance.

“So sensitive.” She bit her lip, envisioning all the ways she could tease her if she was that receptive to a gentle stroke. She could spend _hours_ toying with her – she slid her hands away before she could get too wrapped up in the thought, trailing the washcloth down her belly. “I love your stomach. I always imagined it'd be soft...”

“I'm not super buff like you.” Eve said, hands moving up to Villanelle's shoulders. At the touch of her hands, Villanelle dropped to her knees gracefully. She was working her way down, after all. When she looked up, she noticed that rather than widening again, Eve's eyes had grown heavy-lidded at the sight of her on her knees. She reached out to take the little shampoo bottle, offering it up to her.

“Wash my hair while I praise you?”

It took Eve a moment to realize she was being spoken to, giving a little nod and clearing her throat. “Ah – yeah.”

“Also... I'm kinda glad you aren't buff. I like that you're softer than I am. It makes me want to touch you all the time. I want to hold you all the time.”

“Like a stuffed animal?” Eve asked, chuckling gently as she emptied the rest of the shampoo into her hair and began to wash. Villanelle gave a little nod as she moved to her hips.

“Yeah. And I love your hips. You're so little but you have such nice hips. Ones you can really grab on to, you know?” She leaned in to place a kiss on each hip bone... then one in the middle. Eve's fingers tightened slightly in her hair, and she grinned. “Relax, baby. I'm still just going through the list.”

“I think you've made your point, V.” Eve mumbled, working the shampoo through her hair.

“Are you sure? Are you still feeling unappreciated?” She grinned, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin between her hips, looking up.

“I never said I felt unappreciated, you know.” Eve pointed out.

“But you needed to know what I liked about your body.” She said as she began to sneak her hands up the backs of her legs. She grinned a little harder as she cupped both of her cheeks in her hands, squeezing lightly. “I really, _really_ love your ass, too. It's great.”

“You better stop that.” Eve warned. Villanelle did not heed it, beginning to rhythmically squeeze, massaging, watching her face. Eve did not pull away or tug at her to indicate she actually _wanted_ her to stop; in fact, Villanelle was acutely aware of the way her breathing picked up in pace.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“You're trying to kill me, that's what this is.” Eve mumbled, fingers stroking her hair back. Her nails scraped delightfully over her wet scalp, the shampoo beginning to wash out just as a byproduct of being in Eve's runoff.

“Never.” She returned, kissing the valley between her hips again. She let her lips linger there. She had to force herself to keep her tongue in her mouth, wanting to trace it over every conceivable bit of skin. She wanted to plunge it into her, for Eve to get a fistful of her hair and guide her to do exactly what she wanted.

“You are, because my legs are going to give out and I'm going to smash my head against the wall.”

“I wouldn't let that happen.” Villanelle said, lips still against her skin, kissing intermittently.

“Villanelle -” Eve drew in a slow breath, eyes closing.

“Hm?”

“That was my way of telling you that you should rinse your hair out because I'm done with this shower.”

“Are you sure? We're not all the way clean yet, you know.” Villanelle smirked up at her, though her gaze was not met.

“I swear to god if you don't get up right now I'm going to push you down and climb on top of you.” Eve opened her eyes and looked down at her.

“That would be _really_ hot.” Villanelle met her eyes, her own wide.

“Not when you're getting the shower stream right in your face, and definitely not when I break my stitches and start screaming and bleeding all over the place.” Eve rationalized. Villanelle made a noise and pulled away, handing her the washcloth as she did; Eve quickly washed the parts that she hadn't allowed Villanelle to wash, moving towards the edge of the shower carefully.

Villanelle stood, stepping into the water just long enough to get the soap out of her hair – then to hastily wash her lower body, as Eve had neglected to do so. She didn't blame her. Villanelle knew that her breasts were extremely distracting. Even _she_ found them distracting sometimes, in an entirely narcissistic way. She was in no way paying herself a bit of attention at that point, however. Why would she, when Eve was so captivating? She watched as Eve gingerly maneuvered herself out of the shower, chewing her lower lip. She brought her hand down between her legs, sighing at the heat she felt there, at how swollen she was with arousal. It seemed constant now that Eve was hers. She was always, _always_ ready to go when it came to her.

She pouted as Eve wrapped a towel around her body, deciding that the time was right to leave the shower. She turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing Eve's hand and pulling her in close. Eve let go of the towel before she had a chance to tighten it as their bodies met, and Villanelle grinned as it began to drop, catching it with her other hand.

“Can’t have you covering up now.” She wrapped an arm around her waist, using the towel to tenderly dab at the moisture still hanging on her cheeks. Eve watched her face as she brought her arms up around her shoulders, something frustratingly unreadable in her eyes. It was so strange to her to not be able to read an expression on someone when she had spent her entire adult life learning how to expertly decipher them; stranger still that she couldn’t read it on Eve, who tended to be laid bare in hers. It made her a hilariously bad liar, usually. Frowning, she pulled the towel around their shoulders, head tilting. “Are you okay? You have a weird look in your eyes.”

Eve took her by the back of the head, fingers threading into dripping wet hair. She didn’t say a word; just gave the slightest of smiles and pulled her down, locking lips with her. Villanelle was pleased with that as an answer, dismissing her worries; Eve must have just been confirming something to herself. She couldn’t help the moan that rose from her throat, bending slightly at the shoulders to meet her. Her hands went to Eve’s hips to begin guiding her towards the door, a single purpose in mind as the towel once again fell away. Eve, however, had another idea; she wrapped her arms tight around her shoulders, standing on her tip-toes as she deepened the kiss. It was a signal that Villanelle picked up on easily as her lips parted to allow Eve to invade with a hunger that she must have barely been concealing before. Her hands slid from her hips to her ass, leaning down to hook them around the backs of Eve’s thighs.

With a coordination born from nothing but desire, Eve lifted just as Villanelle pulled, wrapping her legs around her waist. She walked them out of the bathroom, placing each step with immense care; she had only barely dried off from the shower and the thought of slipping was so supremely unsexy that she almost cringed. She didn’t, though - she _couldn’t_ , not with Eve attacking her mouth so fiercely, plush lips giving way to a quick tongue and teeth that nipped and pulled. Eve was voracious, and Villanelle would give her everything she wanted, everything she needed, _anything_ to make her moan and split apart with pleasure. Once her feet were on carpet, Villanelle picked up the pace, moving them to the bed, mind beginning to fog over at the feeling of Eve against her. The insistence of her kiss was world-shattering, and Villanelle was swimming in the sensation, vaguely aware of her ass hitting the bed as she lowered on to it.

Once they were on it, Eve’s legs pulled from behind her in favor of straddling her instead, her arms pulling from around her shoulders as well. Her brows raised as Eve broke away just long enough to look her in the eyes. Eve gave a little smirk, and pushed her back, making Villanelle giggle in the most stupidly girlish way. Hearing such a noise come from herself was disarming, startling even; she was almost always the aggressor, the one making girls giggle like that. What the hell was Eve doing to her? She found that the answer to her own question was a resounding acceptance as Eve leaned down to resume the kiss, hips shifting atop her. Villanelle’s hands moved to find her ass once again, squeezing and stroking. She had reacted so strongly to it in the shower that she was sure it would get her moaning and give her back some modicum of control.

She was right; she felt Eve’s moan vibrate against her lips, her hips rocking in time to Villanelle’s massaging. She wanted to touch her everywhere, though, not just focus on one area. She soon found her hands trailing back and forth from thighs to ass to lower back, making brief stops to squeeze her the way she clearly enjoyed. Eve’s hands took to wandering as well, to Villanelle’s joy, fingertips tracing oh-so-delicately from her shoulders to between them to take hold of what Villanelle was quickly realizing were her new favorite things. Her fingers curled around the curve of Villanelle’s breasts, squeezing lightly, experimentally. It was then that she realized that Eve’s eyes were open, where hers had been closed from the second they hit the bed. She grinned, giving her ass a little swat. Eve made a noise, breaking the kiss and leaning back to look at her.

“Mm - what was that for?” She mumbled, fingers still on Villanelle’s chest. Her thumbs were gently sliding along the still damp skin.

“I thought you liked having your ass smacked?” She raised a brow, stroking the spot. “Do you always keep your eyes open when you kiss?”

“Not always… I just want to know what you look like when I do things - so I know how you react, and just - if you like what I’m doing, because this is new.” Eve explained, licking her lips, “Also? That was _not_ a smack. That was a tap. You can do better than that.”

“Eve, as long as you’re touching me I’ll like it. You’re a woman - you know what you like, right? I probably like it too, and if I don’t I’ll tell you, okay? No worrying.” Villanelle assured her.

Then, since Eve had clearly challenged her, Villanelle pulled her hand back and slapped her right cheek with more gusto.

“Fuck!” Eve gave a sharp gasp, head dropping to Villanelle’s shoulder, hands squeezing her harder in response. Villanelle’s back arched into her hands just slightly, biting her lip.

“You like that, huh? Dirty girl.” Villanelle mumbled, rubbing the spot she slapped.

“I do - not all the time, but…” Eve’s breathing was heavy again as she leaned in to kiss Villanelle’s neck, thumbs stroking over her nipples.

“I can be gentle, if you want.”

“I just want you to be yourself.” Eve’s voice was soft, a little deeper than usual.

“I can do that.”

She moved a hand between them to Eve’s thigh, biting her lip as she stroked the silken skin she encountered. She was so soft and smooth with just the right amount of muscle that she could spend hours between them comfortably. She groaned softly at the thought, moving to take her by the waist again. Eve wanted her to be herself, and that’s exactly what she would do. She lifted herself slightly, and Eve understood, moving off of her and laying on her side to face her. Suddenly, they were face to face, and Villanelle felt an ache in two parts as she looked at her. She ached to feel her in every way, and ached at the memory of the last time they had taken this position. The scar on her belly throbbed alongside the throbbing between her legs, aching for her, because of her. She chewed the inside of her lip, closing her eyes as she touched it, finger sliding affectionately over the pale tissue.

She was not left to her own devices for more than a fleeting moment, though; Eve’s fingers moved hers aside to touch instead. It was the first time she had done so, that Villanelle could recall, and the sensation that it caused was confusingly erotic. It was the mark that Eve had made, her signature carved into Villanelle’s gut made more distinct by the infection she had allowed to happen. Eve pressed two fingers side by side against it, dragging along the length of the scar. Her stomach sucked in on reflex, but she did not pull away. She _wanted_ Eve to touch her there, the tenderness reminding her of how far they had come in such a short time. She stroked back a wet curl from Eve’s cheek, watching her as she stared at the spot, fingers memorizing the length and width of it.

“I still can’t believe I did this to you.” Eve mumbled, glancing back up at her.

“It’s okay. Maybe you can kiss it better.” Villanelle teased.

She didn’t expect Eve to take it as instruction, blinking in surprise as Eve shifted, taking hold of her hip and leaning down to place a kiss there. God, her lips were soft - Villanelle’s mind and body were once again awash in sensation. Eve kissed a line across it, tender, as if she truly intended to make it better with affection alone. She drew in a breath and forgot to let it go until Eve met her eyes again, mischievous amusement in them. Villanelle let out the breath and shook her head. She was truly disarmed by the woman. Something about their encounter felt so _new_ , so different from the ones that Villanelle had in the past. She had slept with plenty of people in the past, mostly out of boredom and a desire to feel, honing her expertise in the bedroom in the same way she had learned to fight - with practice and natural skill.

Something about Eve made her feel like she was doing this all for the first time. Villanelle was the voice of experience in the room, yet she was paralyzed at the sight of Eve’s lips on her skin. She wanted to throw her down and fuck her properly, to make her forget any of the troubles they had faced, but at the same time it felt wrong to frame it in such a way. There was a terrible, pressing need to make it somehow _special_ , as if their circumstances weren’t special enough. Was it because she loved her? Was that the difference? She had never felt so nervous, so giddy with anyone before, not even Anna. Her silence was not lost on Eve, who pulled away just long enough to redirect her affection to her lips, pressing her body closer to her.

Eve’s fingers were on her scar again, fascinated by the feel of it beneath her fingers as Villanelle took the lead again, moving over her and slotting between her legs. Was she thinking about the scar the same way that Villanelle was? Was she fascinated at her own capacity for violence, and Villanelle’s ability to love her after such a swift and devastating betrayal? Did she regret it? Villanelle hoped not. She kissed her this time, smiling into her lips to see that Eve was still keeping her eyes open. It was so strange and distracting, but ultimately endearing since Eve had explained it. She raised a brow when she recognized amusement in her gaze, only getting a brief moment to wonder about it before she felt it at the same time she heard it; Eve’s hand moved from her scar quickly, and was brought down on her ass hard. It made her yip in surprise and then burst into laughter, pulling from her lips and looking to her.

“Really? You needed payback?”

“I wanted to see if you’d like it too! So far you’ve been doing everything.” Eve laughed as Villanelle’s head fell to her shoulder, kissing along it to break up her own laughter.

“I don’t think I like in the same way, no. I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten away with doing that to me, you know.” She told her, kissing to her neck.

“Yeah? You like to bet the one in control in bed?” Eve’s head tilted, exposing more of her neck to her.

“Yeah… I know what I’m doing, what I want, and what I like… it’s just easier when I’m the one doing the work.” Villanelle purred it, sucking on the skin beneath her ear lightly.

“I definitely would have guessed that about you.” Eve closed her eyes finally, bringing a hand up to the side of her head. “What do you want to do right now?”

“I want to taste you. I’ve wanted to for so long.” She admitted.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since last night.” Eve said in return, the hand that had slapped Villanelle’s ass moving to her thigh… and then around her front, slipping between Villanelle’s legs. “Does doing it turn you on?”

“ _You_ turn me on, Eve… I want to make you feel good.” She mumbled against her neck.

She did not yet move to descend down her body, taken aback by the hand that had taken to exploring her. Eve cupped her, stroking over her folds but not venturing between. The touch felt curious, exploratory, and she found her legs spreading almost of their own volition. She wasn’t used to anyone touching her but herself; when she had sex, she rarely let her partners touch her, always feeling she would do a better job herself (and being right almost every time she tried to let someone prove otherwise). She closed her eyes when Eve brushed over her clit, biting back a noise.

“Do you always have to call the shots?” Eve asked, rolling her fingertip along the sensitive nub, touch feather-light.

“No…” Villanelle mumbled, stroking her hand up Eve’s side slowly, pressing against Eve’s fingers; Eve pressed harder as a result, causing her to take in a heavy breath.

“Good. Because I know what I like, too… what I want.” Eve stroked her cheek gently, head tilting to the side to kiss at her face. Villanelle shifted so that Eve’s mouth would land on hers.

“What do you want?”

“Everything. Your mouth, your tongue, your hands, your pussy, your body.” Eve said, breathing heavy into her mouth. Eve wanted her - _all_ of her, and Villanelle felt herself careening towards the edge just at the idea of it. To be so wanted, so desired made her heart pound in her chest and in her throat.

“It’s yours. Everything you want.” Villanelle promised, just as breathy.

She would worship every part of Eve with every part of herself, breaking away to begin kissing down her body. She couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t spend any more time lingering at Eve’s lips when she could feel her heat so heavy between them. Eve pulled her hand from between them and brought it to Villanelle’s hair, stroking it back as she descended, fingers threading into it. She kissed between her breasts and down her belly, delighted by the way Eve arched her body to meet her mouth even as she continued lower. They were magnetized, drawn against each other at every opportunity, Villanelle’s mouth seeking out the superheated skin that needed her to soothe it. She laid herself out as she met her target, pulling her head back to finally get the look that she had been dreaming of since they first met.

She couldn’t help but moan at the sight. Eve was angelic, an icon of Villanelle’s lust and longing laid out like a feast before her. Her legs had spread wider, revealing the prettiest pussy she had ever seen, slick and swollen with arousal. Her skin was so sensitive that when Villanelle slid a hand back up her body, from thigh to breast, a perfect trail of goosebumps lit up in its wake. And her face - god, her face. Her beautiful flushed face, with her heavily lidded eyes and still-wet hair clinging to a cheek as she watched in anticipation of Villanelle making good on her promise. She couldn’t keep her waiting despite wanting to drink in the sight for hours, not with Eve’s hands in her hair and hips shifting. Hooking an arm around Eve’s thigh, she brought her head down and finally tasted her, tongue sliding between her folds.

“Oh fuck,” She could hear Eve whisper; and then her volume raised as Villanelle dragged her tongue along the underside of her clit, “Oh, _fuck_!”

Villanelle’s every sense was focused on her; Eve was all around her, filling her up with her smell, her taste, her noises, the sight of her, the feeling of her skin. Her leg pulled at Villanelle, pressed against her shoulder to try and keep her as close as possible even though Villanelle never intended to leave that spot. She pressed against her mouth, and Villanelle was happy to let her, pulling her clit into it to suck and stroke it, tongue tracing beneath the hood and back again. She was Eve’s to do with what she wanted, to rock against her face in slow, hard circles, to cling to in pursuit of pleasure, and nothing had ever turned Villanelle on more.

“It’s so good, baby,” Eve gasped, “More, please-”

The gentle praise drew a moan from Villanelle, and she redoubled her efforts, increasing the pressure. She wanted to whisper teasing words to her, to tell her how good she tasted and take her to the edge with an agonizingly slow pace. She could almost picture the way she would squirm, the need with which she would plead for release. Not this time, though - not when Eve was gently tugging her hair and crying out with such breathtaking clarity. Teasing could happen some other time, when Villanelle’s need to make her come wasn’t something that felt so dire, as if getting Eve off was inexorably tied to her well being. She dragged her teeth over the underside of her clit, and Eve reacted as if electrified, giving another cry as her muscles tightened.

“Oh my _god_ , Villanelle!”

She grinned against her, shifting her body to reposition just enough to pull her other arm up. The feeling of her constricting around nothing had reignited her deep, never really gone desire to be inside of her. She would give her something to cling to with those admirably strong internal muscles. Two fingers twisted and pushed into her almost _oppressive_ heat, not stopping until fully hilted in her. It felt so good, so right to be buried inside of her, so right that she could barely think to breathe unless it added to Eve’s pleasure, single minded in her task as she began to thrust. Eve’s hips rocked with her rhythm, so incredibly responsive to every touch, meeting her every ministration, as if they were sharing the same mind -

“Vil - I’m so close,” Eve moaned, “More!”

So demanding - but who would Villanelle be if she did not meet that demand? She gave her more, pushing in another finger and pounding her harder even as her insides gripped tighter, tighter, and then, suddenly, she felt the telltale pulse. With thighs tightening around Villanelle’s head and fingers in her hair holding her in place, Eve cried out her orgasm. Villanelle moaned at the feeling, letting her ride it out how she saw fit, stroking her inner walls as they throbbed around her. Only when Eve’s hand pulled away did she let up, looking up to see her pink faced and chest heaving. Her arm draped over her forehead as she caught her breath, looking down at her with vague shock in her expression.

Villanelle grinned as she pulled her head back, licking her lips.

“Do you want more, still?” She curled the fingers that were still inside of her, and Eve whined softly, dropping a hand down to pull at her.

“Sensitive. Very, very sensitive.” Eve explained softly, urging her to come lay with her. “I just need a minute.”

Villanelle, still positively buzzing with her own unfulfilled arousal, dragged herself up to Eve’s side, languid and heavy but terribly proud of herself. She draped an arm over Eve’s waist and a leg around one of hers, watching Eve’s eyes slip shut as she got her mind right. She dropped a hand to Villanelle’s arm, stroking clumsily as she caught her breath. She kept silent, listening to all of Eve’s little noises.

“… what does it taste like?” Eve opened her eyes, turning her head to look at her.

“Hm?” Villanelle raised a brow, watching her.

“You heard me.”

“Like pussy.” Villanelle offered, unable to describe it in better detail.

“Like… is that good or bad?” Eve mumbled, only confused by that.

“Mm, if you hadn’t pulled me up I would have stayed down there for hours.” Villanelle assured her.

Eve was quiet for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as the fingers sliding along Villanelle’s arms became more coordinated, ghosting across her forearm to her shoulder. Then, she shifted to her side to face her, looking into her eyes as she flattened her palm against her shoulder, a silent signal that she wanted Villanelle on her back. She took hold of Eve’s waist as she did, pulling her on top and grinning as Eve squeaked her surprise, looking down at her.

“Can I… do you want me to…” Eve mumbled, surprisingly timid for a woman who had just come on her face.

“You don’t have to do anything, Eve… I told you, I’m more of a giver.” Villanelle reassured her, stroking her cheek.

“Remember the first time we were in a bedroom together, V? When you told me… that you masturbated about me?” Eve asked, fingers tracing along her collarbone.

“Yeah… In retrospect I probably could have kept that to myself, but to be fair it seemed like we were having a moment.” Villanelle quipped, letting her own hands wander down Eve’s back.

“We were, I just wasn’t expecting that - but… I had thought about it, too. I would fantasize about you all the time.” Eve admitted, building to some point.

“Yeah?” Villanelle encouraged, curious.

“Yeah, and… when I fantasized, it always ended up with…” Eve trailed off a bit, as if embarrassed.

“Eve, I’m not gonna judge you.” She reassured.

“It always ended up with you sitting on my face and I really really want to…” Eve gave a soft whine as she admitted it, dropping her head to Villanelle’s shoulder.

“… Really? That’s not a novice move, you know.” Villanelle was stunned by the admission. It wouldn’t have occurred as Eve’s first choice for her first real foray into girl-on-girl, but she was more thrilled by the notion that Eve touched herself to the thought than anything.

“You said you’d give me everything I wanted, didn’t you?” Eve pulled back to look at her, biting her lip.

“I… are you sure? You might not…” Villanelle began - Eve actually put a hand over her mouth.

“Give me what I want, V. That’s what I want. And if I decide halfway through that I hate it I’ll smack your leg or something, just - _please_ let me get what I want.” Eve’s tone had gone from nervous to pleading in a split second, eyes wide. As turned on as she was, Villanelle could think of no reason not to, even if she had some weird hangups about control in the bedroom. This was _Eve_ ; how could she not accommodate such a ridiculously sexy request from the only person she had ever wanted this badly? The more she thought about it, the more her pulse raced. Part of her was nervous that she wouldn’t be able to get off, or that it would take too long and she’d get too frustrated to let her continue, but she quickly set to work silencing those thoughts. Eve shifted away, laying back, hand in Villanelle’s and tugging, beckoning for her.

She submitted to Eve’s whim, leaning down to kiss her gently, searching her eyes for doubt. She found nothing but bedroom eyes, the heavy lidded picture of seduction - _Give me what I want, V._ Villanelle bit her lip, burying her hesitations somewhere deep in favor of focusing on her face, on her _mouth_ , on the desire that had been so strong that Eve had fucked herself imagining it. It wasn’t long before she had moved into position, knees on either side of her head as she looked down on her. It almost felt sacrilegious to be mounting her in such a way, but also deeply, _deeply_ tantalizing. Eve watched her face only long enough for Villanelle’s fingers to find purchase in her hair before shifting her focus down. Still no hesitation there, only heavy breaths and a tongue that wet her lips in anticipation.

As she lowered herself and felt the first tentative swipe of Eve’s tongue, Villanelle suddenly forgot why she had been concerned in the first place. At the second, more sure motion that landed on her swollen clit, her mind went almost completely blank save for the part reserved for appreciating how absurdly, mind-bendingly sexy it all was and the part that wanted nothing more than to press down and ride her face until she came. She still restrained herself, though, stroking her fingers through Eve’s still damp curls and giving a whimper that was downright pitiful when Eve used an arm to pull her down further. Eve’s tongue, wet and firm, slid through her folds, tasting her, testing her reactions, and Villanelle bent at the waist to watch her better, fascinated.

“Eve…” She gasped when Eve traced the tip of her before wrapping her lips around it, “You’ve never done this before, right? So you’re just a natural?”

Villanelle wanted to chide herself for sounding so fucking stupid and high pitched and stunned, but Eve only seemed encouraged by her idiotic words, sucking harder. She was voracious as she ate Villanelle out, meeting her eyes just once before they slipped shut. Her uninjured arm held her by the thigh, pulling her in and trying desperately to hold her there with no regard for her own need to breathe. All Villanelle could do was tremble, pressing down against her mouth, hips rocking in hard, shallow motions.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Eve!” Villanelle whimpered, _whined_ , undone by Eve’s desire. She dragged her free hand to her chest to pinch her nipple, sending another jolt down her spine, pushing her closer to the edge that Eve worked her towards. She had never expected it would come so readily, not when she wasn’t the one doing the work, because no one ever really got her there. But Eve, beautiful, stunning Eve with her skillful tongue and that mouth that was capable of apparently far more than she had initially imagined - she was bringing her there. She was dragging her to orgasm with every swipe and pull, belly tight, body tensing even as she rode her face with far less restraint than at first, and then—

Her eyes clenched shut, body doubling over as it hit, mouth dropping open to let out another long whimper. She never cried out when she came, never made much noise at all - but physically it was obvious in how she trembled and bucked. Eve held on to her, not letting up, working her through the orgasm until a second washed over her spine and she nearly sobbed. Pleasure, pure and deep, pulsed in waves throughout her body, coating her nerves in liquid heat. And Eve - god, Eve - she persisted, licking her until she could no longer take it, body wrecked with hypersensitivity.

“Eve, no more, I can’t -” She gasped. Eve didn’t seem to hear her at first, or didn’t care - Villanelle had to pull away to get her to unlatch, moving quickly to drop herself off to Eve’s side. “… holy shit.”

“I did good?” Eve gasped for breath as Villanelle settled on the bed, giving a laugh.

“ _Eve!_ Holy! Shit!” Villanelle repeated, for emphasis.

“It’s good to be appreciated…”

“I love you. Did you know that?” Villanelle mumbled, shifting herself heavily into a position where she could actually look at her. It was an action that made her groan, because Eve’s mouth and chin were coated with the remnants of her.

“I know.”

“Did you… like doing that?” Villanelle came to rest once again at her side, and Eve looked to her. Her eyes were wide as she reached over to take Villanelle’s hand, a curious action that would soon lead her to her answer as Eve pulled it down between her legs. “Oh! Okay. That’s very good to know… so you’re ready to go again, huh?”

Eve gave a soft gasp as Villanelle slid two fingers back into her, an action aided by the flood of fluids there.

—

They would spend the majority of their day exploring each other, getting to know one another with all the vigor and enthusiasm of newlyweds on their honeymoon before falling asleep in each others arms.

It was a fact that made waking to an empty bed all the more alarming for Villanelle.


	14. FRANCE; ....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having woken to an empty bed, Villanelle begins to spiral; but then --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello sorry for the last chapter and also sorry for this one! 
> 
> Love ya. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated, as always. <3

Staring at the empty spot, Villanelle’s body felt so terribly cold. She had called for Eve, looked in the bathroom and had even wandered the halls with increasing fear before returning to the room. It was only on her return that Villanelle noticed it; the container holding roughly seven thousand euros had been left open on Eve’s nightstand, now holding just half of that. Eve’s clothing was gone, too. Sometime while Villanelle had slept soundly, more content than she had ever been, Eve had gotten up and left her. She felt nothing but frozen despair, heavy and twisting, numbing her limbs and bringing tears to her eyes. At first she thought that Eve had been taken, somehow; that the Twelve had broken into the room and snatched her away while Villanelle slept, or that she had gone out for ice and been taken then. If it weren’t for the missing money, perfectly divided between them, she would have left to find her, to save her. If it weren’t for the missing shoes and medical supplies, Villanelle would have assumed the worst. But was it the worst? Was Eve being taken by their pursuants a worse fate in her mind than Eve… abandoning her?

A sob worked its way from her throat as the thought sank into her heart, as vicious as a dagger between the ribs. Why would Eve have left her? What had happened between the day before and that morning? Had she looked upon Villanelle’s sleeping form and found her wanting? Had she thought better of giving herself to her - had she decided painfully late that Villanelle wasn’t worth the trouble? It all felt like some cruel joke, some unfathomably mean-spirited prank. Could Eve really be so unfeeling? Or had she done something wrong? Had she missed some signal that Eve had given her, some clue that she was actually unhappy and that she was a stupid fool for thinking it could work? She wracked her brain for an hour searching for the answer, with every minute that passed causing the horrible sense of despondency to multiply in size until it was too thick in her mind to even continue. Her pain was a crackling cage that shrank around her a little more with each passing moment.

She was never good enough. She was never enough, period, not for anyone. She was always too filled with darkness, or not dark enough, or not normal enough, or not family enough. Her life was a series of abandonments. She was abandoned to the orphanage by her mother. She was abandoned to life by her father. She was abandoned to a broken system by her country, abandoned by Anna to the memory of a husband she did not love. Konstantin abandoned her every chance he got, saying she was family one moment and leaving her to rot the next. The only constant in her life for years had been the Twelve, but there was no connection there; they were an entity, not a loved one. But Eve - god, she had such hope with Eve. She had gone against everything for her! She had allowed Eve to change her, to mold her into something that suited her needs. She had put her heart into Eve’s open palms only for her to squeeze it until only viscera was left - and oh, what a fool she was for not expecting it! Her scar throbbed as her body curled in on itself, a throb which had brought her comfort in other times, but now felt like there was something inside of her trying to scrape its way free through it.

Some time passed as she dwelt on her own words, on Eve’s, searching desperately for an answer to what had gone wrong. How could she understand what she had done wrong when it felt like everything was going right? They had been on a beautiful, romantic quest to find a place in the world for themselves, to carve out a piece of the world that was theirs and theirs alone. They had spent most of the day making love - it wasn’t just fucking, with Eve - they had _made love_ like she had never done with anyone before. Villanelle was barely aware of her motions as she dragged herself to her feet, nauseous with feeling but at the same time strangely numb. She moved into the bathroom to look at her face, and the visage that greeted her barely seemed like her own. Her face was pale but blotchy with the gentle trauma of her weeping. Her hair looked flat and thin. Her eyes were red and swollen. Grimacing, she leaned down to splash water on it, trying to bite back her nausea.

For the life of her, she couldn’t understand. She had tried so hard to do everything right. Was she too much to handle? Was her humor grating? Was she not a good lover, or was she pushing too much too fast? She knew it had only been three days, at that point, but Eve had seemed so… willing. She had not only gone along with things, but had led as well; she had hotwired a car, for gods sake! They had jumped from a train together! Was it all a game, an act that Eve had put on? Had something else been brewing inside of her the whole time and, despite Villanelle pouring her heart out at every opportunity, Eve had not seen fit to do the same? Villanelle splashed her face again, giving a frustrated noise that was something akin to a scream, throwing a fist out to strike the wall. Her knuckles pulsed with pain the moment she did so, and she did it several more times, until the skin was scraped from them and blood smeared the spot she had struck. The pain centered her, if only for a moment. She put her hand beneath the stream, taking a deep breath.

Her despair was quickly shifting into anger. Why would Eve bother to lead her on? Was she waiting for Villanelle to have money enough to ditch her? If she was - what was the day before about? There had been several times when Villanelle was near sleep and Eve had climbed back atop her, demanding attention. It wasn’t the behavior of somebody that was trying to push her away. It was the behavior of someone who wanted her just as much as she wanted them. None of it made any sense to her, and the longer she thought about it the more frustrated she became. Putting her hand into the sink she flicked the water back on, allowing the water to flow over the fresh wounds on her knuckles. She watched the water trail from her fingertips, bleeding streams hitting the white porcelain and disappearing down the drain as easily as Eve’s words of love receded from her memory. How could Eve love her the way she said and still abandon her? That wasn’t love. It had been only days since Eve had said that Villanelle didn’t know what love was if she tried to weaponize it to keep her, but Villanelle understood it so much better now. If Eve had been unhappy, she should have said so, to allow her to fix it, or to change.

Were her efforts to change not enough? Had she not done it quickly enough? Villanelle scowled at the sink, flicking the water back off and moving away, mind racing, heart thumping as her anger became more succinct. She gathered up the cash and her passport from the container, shoving them into her bra (and cursing the makeshift outfit’s lack of pockets).

Nothing was acceptable about what Eve had done, and Villanelle intended to make her answer for it.

It was a little past six AM, and she had little time to spare if she was to catch her; once things opened for the day, Eve would slip from her grasp. She saw the car keys on the nightstand, which meant that Eve was either on foot or had opted for a cab. She grabbed them as well, holding them tight enough to turn her battered knuckles pale at the edges of the wounds. She stuck the gun in the waistband of her skirt. It was awkward with the silencer on, but she didn’t have time to care. Taking a deep breath, she left the hotel room, moving straight to the stairs, having no patience for the elevator.

Villanelle was on a mission, from that point; she would find Eve, and demand answers, and judge her accordingly. She had accepted her betrayal once before; romanticized it, even, as a notation of caring, or perhaps revenge for a friend that Villanelle had taken from her. She could accept that; she could even cherish it as something understandable and noble. Violence made much more sense to her than abandonment; violence had a reason and kept attachments in mind. To be left in the night was something foul and conniving, cruel in a way that was unthinkable to her. She would rather Eve had slit her throat. At least then she could have died with some joy in her heart, not left alive to wander with a hole left by her absence. She hadn’t felt so empty since the day that Eve hadn’t shown up in Amsterdam the way she thought she would. She had left so many hints for her, made it so terribly obvious, but Eve had never come to her. If it hadn’t been for Konstantin (another betrayer), she would have murdered that girl in the nightclub bathroom and been put away to rot in jail until the Twelve saw fit to use her again. This pain, though, was worse. It was the pain of having loved and lost.

As she reached the first floor, she glanced at the desk.

Daniel, half awake and nursing a coffee, caught her eye immediately.

“Oh… Mrs. O’Shea. Your wife left something for you.” He said, clearing the sleep from his throat and looking around the mess of papers on his desk. “She looked to be in a rush, but said you’d ask about it.”

Mrs. O’Shea?

Oh - Villanelle remembered. Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to focus; she was Fiona O’Shea, an Irish newlywed with a wife who was hysterical after a car crash. She cleared her throat a little, hoping that her accent wasn’t too off.

“Oh… Did she? Well, give it here. I was going to ask if you’d seen ‘er. When did she leave?” She smiled faintly.

“Ahh - my shift started at five, so about an hour ago? She was waiting down here. Here, a note… Oh - your hand! Let me get you something from the first aid kit —” Daniel frowned at the state of her.

“No no, it’s fine Daniel. Thank you. I’ll be back before checkout, okay?” Villanelle snatched away the note and exited the hotel as quickly as she could, note clenched in her other fist.

She traveled down the block to where they had parked the car, slipping into the drivers seat and hastily pulling the letter open. It was heavy with Eve’s words, scrawled carefully. She had such beautiful handwriting that for a moment before reading it Villanelle could only admire it. She had always appreciated good penmanship. She shook her head roughly, forcibly returning the scowl to her lips as she began to read.

“ _Villanelle,_

_I need to start this letter by telling you how sorry I am. I’m sorry that I didn’t wake you. I’m sorry that I let this happen the way it did. I’m sorry if you’re confused, or angry, or whatever. You have every right to be because I gave you no indication that I was feeling anything other than okay with what we were doing. I’m writing this after spending all night sitting up, trying to sleep and failing miserably even though I’m exhausted because I can’t seem to shut my brain off. I’m having a hard time even collecting my thoughts long enough to pen you a real explanation because I feel like somebody dunked my brain into a vat of boiling oil. I honestly felt fine until after you were asleep, and then… that. My mind started to race and hasn’t stopped since. I don’t understand what’s going on with me. I feel sick, and scared, and confused, and I just want to go home. I’m scared that I don’t have a home left to go back to. I’m scared that we’re going to be caught and that they’ll kill me, or you, or both of us, and I’m scared of myself. At least this way I can go back to England and try to make things right in some way._

_Though I don’t know that I’ll ever feel right again._

_I killed a man, V. I took an axe to another human being and chopped him until he was a twitching mangled mess because he was hurting you. When did that become something I was capable of? For the first two days after I didn’t think about it at all, and now every time I close my eyes I see it. I see his eyes bugged out all wide, I see his neck gaping, I see his teeth bared and broken and I swear to god I can smell him still. I can smell his blood, V, and even after we ran away and bathed it’s like it was stuck in my nostrils, like it’s still there. He had a family. Maybe he was a terrible person, maybe he beat his kids, whatever - but who was I to decide he didn’t get to live? When he let you go we should have run, because now I’m afraid I’ll never get the smell of his blood out no matter how far away I run. I had always wondered what it would be like to kill somebody but I never thought I would do it - that I would be able to - and now that I know, I can’t look at myself the same._

_I’m sorry that I lied to you all those times I said I was okay. I didn’t know at the time that I was lying, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry I made you trust me and love me, and… I don’t even know anymore. You were so worried about hurting me and now I’m the one doing it to you. This isn’t because of you. You didn’t do anything but try to protect me, and go along with all my bullshit - and him… I killed him to protect you, but I was the one who got you into that position, wasn’t I? I feel like I tricked you, and that I’ve just made it worse by letting you love me. I’ve got some damage deep down in me that I can’t for the life of me figure out, and I fear that I might have been using you to do so. That isn’t right. These last couple days I’ve seen a side of you that’s amazed me… you contain so much love, and so many layers, and when I think of leaving you it makes me feel sick, but I know that staying would be worse. We would consume each other, V. No amount of love would keep us from burning up before we had a chance to live with each other for too long. Maybe if I go back I can do something to make the Twelve stop chasing you. Maybe not. I don’t know. I can’t be sure of anything right now with my head racing the way it is._

_Please don’t look for me. Please don’t hate me._

_Eve”_

Villanelle noticed tear marks on the page that had since dried; she only noticed them as her own fell into the ruts in the paper and gathered there. Her anger had dissipated, replaced by a lowly sort of sorrow, one that settled over her entire body like lead weights. It felt so deeply tangled up inside her that she had to wonder for a moment if it had always been there, somewhere beneath the surface. The letter was rambling, the way Eve tended to ramble out loud when she was overwhelmed. Eve was confused, and scared, and deeply, deeply traumatized, and Villanelle had not seen it. Perhaps she had caught glimpses of it in the way that Eve would stare off until addressed, and the way she would smile a bit too eagerly when her attention was requested. Maybe she had seen it in the sharp way that Eve would beg her not to bring up Raymond or the ax. Perhaps, even, Eve’s willingness to commit crimes and run away with her should have tipped Villanelle off. Villanelle, who knew of her clean record and her tendency to avoid confrontation. Villanelle, who knew of her boring husband and her chicken, and of her house and desk job.

How could she not have seen it? Eve insisted that it wasn’t her fault, but wasn’t it? Villanelle had drawn the darkness out of her, a thing that she recognized in Eve from early on. She knew there was something in Eve that she had repressed because it was something she had nurtured in herself. Where Villanelle had embraced her darkness, weaponized it, Eve had crushed hers down. Until she met Villanelle, who had seduced her, had drawn it out of her so quickly that Eve had barely noticed the shadow until it was already engulfing her. Villanelle was her snake, her temptation, and had doomed her in the end to a mental torment that she had been ill equipped to handle. Unlike Villanelle, she had no frame of reference for **how** to handle it. She didn’t know how to shut herself off like Villanelle did, didn’t know how to leash her monster, to make it manageable. And now Eve had run away to try to handle it alone. She had no anchor, adrift in a terrible sea that churned and boiled with fear and confusion.

_Please don’t look for me._

What a stupid statement. Eve had to know that Villanelle would look for her. After everything they had been through? It was Eve’s second betrayal, and the pain had been unbearable until she read the letter. Eve had to know, in some part of her mind, that writing it would lead Villanelle to her. She _had_ to know. She had seen right through her so many other times; Eve understood her more easily after a few days than Konstantin had in years. If Eve had wanted a clean break from her, and to _really_ hurt her, she would have left no explanation behind. No; Eve was scared and spiraling, and had left a clue as obvious as the bitten apple in a dead boy’s hand that she was still reaching for her. They were the same, after all. Her mind had been thrown into chaos once the adrenaline of their journey had tapered off. The way that the shock of a crash tended to conceal injuries, it had all come to surface once they slowed down. Perhaps Villanelle had caused this, had pulled her into this darkness, but that meant that it was her responsibility to pull her out.

Villanelle had sworn that she would protect her, and protect her she would, even if that meant protecting her from herself.

Taking a deep breath, she put the letter on the passenger seat, and started up the car. She closed her eyes and took a moment to think the way Eve would be thinking.

“If I were Eve, where would I go?” She mumbled, sliding her hands down her face and around the back of her neck. She peered up and down the road, holding her neck, trying to settle her frazzled mind. It was no small feat, given the exhaustion that loomed heavy there.

“If I were Eve, I would want a phone,” Villanelle barely registered thinking it before she said it, “And to get a phone, I need a store where I can spend my girlfriends hard earned money, but I’m so crazy that I decided to walk instead of stealing her stolen car. So now I’m walking down a road in busted sandals in somebody else’s clothes looking for an open store because I don’t realize that in Paris there aren’t many 24 hour stores that would sell a burner… So I would ask a stranger.”

She gave a sharp nod, putting the key in the ignition and turning it. The road was a dead end at one side, so that mercifully narrowed down her choices. She pulled out and drove, going slow down the street to watch for people who might be hanging around an hour past. She drove slowly, keeping an eye out; it wasn’t long before she found an old man sitting in the outside area of a cafe. He had at least been there a little while; his plate was empty and there were two cream saucers, indicating that he had been pounding coffees for a while. She parked across from him and waved, giving a smile as she opened the door. The man was instantly puzzled by her approach, brows furrowing as he set down his coffee. He put a hand up slowly, confusion etched in bushy brows.

“Hello, hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me… I’m looking for someone who might have passed by here about an hour ago. Have you been here long?” She asked in French as she approached, not bothering to disguise how frazzled she was.

“Ah, I’ve been here for a while, but I haven’t been paying much mind to strangers… Please leave me be. I’m just trying to have a quiet breakfast.” The man muttered, looking her over. He must have thought she was drunk, or high, or just plain old crazy, because he looked entirely uncomfortable in her presence. She supposed the bruises, scrapes, and the fact that she looked like she’d been weeping (because she had) might be off-putting, but that didn’t matter.

“Please, sir. I just need to know if you’ve seen a middle aged woman with beautiful curly hair. Korean, probably had a sort of wild look on her face? Dressed in leggings and a way too big shirt, maybe looked like she just rolled out of bed…” Villanelle began to rattle off details, and the man sighed, putting a hand up.

“Yes, I saw her. That crazy woman nearly throttled me coming past. Spilled my creamer all over the place.” He made a face, shaking his head.

“Sorry about her, she’s had a rough couple of days - what way did she go?” Villanelle brightened. It was a lead.

“She went down that way - she asked if there was a phone store that was opened, and I told her that since it’s five in the morning she’d be better off waiting… that’s when she shook the table and knocked my creamer over!” He gestured wide to the north.

“Thank you! How long ago was that?” Villanelle asked, even as she turned around to move back to the car.

“I don’t know! A half hour, forty five minutes? I’m never coming to this cafe again.” The man grumbled, surly at his second interruption of the day.

“Thank you!” She yelled back, throwing herself back into the drivers seat and taking off again.

She hadn’t bothered turning the engine off, not wanting to waste any time. Every additional minute she spent dawdling was a minute that Eve had to slip away, and she could not, _would not_ allow that. After everything they had been through, Eve at least owed her a conversation. And she owed it to Eve to at least apologize in person for the pain she was in. She couldn’t be moving too fast with her injury, so if she were traveling at a half pace she couldn’t have gotten more than a few streets away… Villanelle drove, slow and vigilant, seeking her or signs of her passing like watching for the remnants of a tornado. One street bled into another, and another after that with no trace; on the third street, though, there was an open store. Once again the car was parked as she looked in, chewing her lower lip worriedly. If Eve hadn’t continued down the road, there were countless side streets that she could have taken. There were too many variables. If the clerk couldn’t confirm that Eve had passed through, she would start towards Le Havre. They had spoken about leaving for the United States via boat, so the port was her best bet at catching her… if she didn’t find her there or close by.

She realized that something was off the moment she stepped into the shop. There was a certain feeling that Villanelle was intimately familiar with, one akin to feeling a change in the air when a storm was about to hit unexpectedly. It was foreboding, hanging heavy and shackling itself to her arms and legs as she moved in to the little convenience store. The pale faced clerk added to the feel of the air; when she saw Villanelle, her eyes darted to and fro.

“Miss; I’m looking for someone.” Villanelle spoke softly, watching as her eyes focused on a back door.

“I - I know. Go in the back, there.” The girl mumbled; she was terrified and it was evident in her voice and in her eyes.

“That seems like a bad idea, between you and me.” Villanelle returned, taking a deep breath. The girl gave a mute, horror-stricken nod of agreement. “I suppose I have to though, don’t I?”

She neither waited for nor expected an answer.

She knew that she would find Eve behind that door. Somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, an intense fear that she would open the door to find Eve’s corpse waiting for her gnawed at her insides. Even heavier than the idea of being abandoned by choice was the idea that Eve had left her only to meet a swift death; that she would be left to wander life truly alone, with the half of her that mattered dead. What would she become, if that happened? A specter of her former self, doomed to a life where feelings were a distant past; a life where she had been wounded so heavily that her mind quit and left her cold? The thought of it made her take pause, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly through a small o-shaped part in her lips. She did not know what she would find, but the only way to learn was to open the door.

When she did, she found a destroyed stockroom-slash-break-room populated by a veritable crowd of people.

At the center, eyes wide with terror, sat Eve on a metal folding chair. Afraid, but very much alive.

Behind her, with a look of smug amusement on her face, stood a woman that Villanelle had never met. She was short, about Eve’s height, but wore a powerful pair of heels and an even more powerful pant suit. Her hair was loose but neat, and the lines of her face were sharp and alluring, the visage of some forgotten goddess of war and chaos. In any other situation, Villanelle would want nothing more than to flirt with her, to see how easily her buttons could be pushed. Now, though - now, Eve, _her_ Eve, sat, paralyzed with fear beneath her hands, which rested on her shoulders as if Eve were an old friend. When Villanelle looked at the woman, all she felt was a horrific anger rising like bile in her throat. The other people in the room were men clad in black, and she knew they were just lackeys. Even if they had been dressed differently none of them radiated power like the foul creature that held Eve’s shoulders and life in her hands. Villanelle’s hand went back to pull the gun from her waistband, keys dropping to the cement floor heavily as every other gun in the room was pulled on her in kind.

She didn’t care. The woman raised a hand, giving her head a soft shake.

“Let her go.” Villanelle snapped, focused only on her. They could riddle her with bullets if they wanted; she would take the bitch with her, if that’s how it went down.

“Villanelle, don’t -” Eve shouted, only to find a hand muffling her words.

“Hush now, Miss Eve. Remember what I said about cooperation.” The woman tutted her softly, smiling as Eve quieted. She brought the hand over her mouth up, threading into Eve’s hair; was it in a way that was meant to intimidate? Did she intend to jerk Eve’s head to the side, pull a blade, and hold her head there while she threatened to slit her throat if Villanelle did not stand down? Did she intend to show that she would abuse Eve if Villanelle did not surrender? Something about the way that she did neither made a lump begin to form. Instead, she treated her scalp to a gentle massage, almost _affectionate_. Villanelle had never seen something so sinister, and she had to swallow heavily to quell the sick feeling gathering in her throat.

She had pissed off plenty of people in Paris, but this was no small time crime boss or angered widow.

Surely, this was an agent of the Twelve.

“Let her go.” Villanelle repeated, tapping the trigger lightly. Without moving her head, she did a silent inventory of the situation. She had bullets enough for everyone, but Eve could be hit in the crossfire, and the moment she opened fire she would be lit up within a split second, dead ten times over via close range rifle blast. There were six men flanking Hélène, ready to fire.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Villanelle. I can’t do anything until you put that gun down. Come, talk to me. I’m not unreasonable. My name is Hélène, and I’ve been watching you for a long time.” She said, still tenderly kneading Eve’s scalp. Villanelle couldn’t look at her touching Eve, so she instead focused on Eve herself. Heavy tears broke over Eve’s lid-lines and poured down to her chin in thick streaks; her eyes said so much. Villanelle could read every sentiment, every question written in them; _why did you look for me_? _Why did you let me leave_? _Will we survive this_? _Please don’t let them hurt me_. _Please don’t let them hurt you_. She met the look with a gentle smile, trying to answer it all at once with a look of her own, a look that said nothing more than ‘ _I love you’._ She wouldn’t let them use Eve against her.

“I’m not speaking to you until you let her go. And I know what you want, so how about this?” Villanelle lifted her eyes to Hélène, smiling wider as she turned the gun up under her own chin. The chamber was still warm from her skin, but goosebumps still radiated out from where it touched. “If you don’t do what I say, I paint this door with my brains. Make a great big mess. Then what use would I be to you? Let her go, and let her leave, and you’ll have me. I’ll cooperate, but that’s my condition. Hurt her and I blow my top - then you can explain to the Twelve why you let their favorite killer kill herself.”

“V…” Eve whispered, body tense. Villanelle knew she wanted to spring forward and rip the gun from beneath her chin, to try some ridiculous Hail Mary to save them both, as she had done before. Instead, she brought a hand to rest over her heart, hand stilling in the air.

“It’s okay, baby. So long as you’re safe… it doesn’t matter to me.” Villanelle reassured her. “It’ll be okay.”

“Villanelle. Put down the gun, and I’ll let her go.” Hélène’s face betrayed no emotion, but Villanelle could hear the slightest hint of falter in her voice when she turned the gun on herself.

“Not until you let her go. Do you think I won’t do it, Hélène? Should I prove it to you? Damage your property a little?” Villanelle shifted the gun beneath from her chin, sneering. She shifted back and forth on her feet, something wild boiling in her guts, churning her up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Villanelle -” Hélène said. Villanelle’s mind kicked into high gear, the adrenaline of the situation pounding in her chest. Hélène did not believe her, and with Eve’s life on the line, she had no choice.

The entire room gave a start as a bullet ripped through the air, save for Villanelle, who screamed as it grazed and singed a trench through her right cheek. It was only a graze, but the pain was white-hot and extreme as blood poured from the wound, soaking her neck. The only mercies were that the silencer kept her from what might have been permanent ear damage otherwise, and that she had managed to angle the shot to avoid hitting her cheekbone or ear. Shaking as she fought to maintain her composure, Villanelle returned the 9mm to its original position beneath her chin, now slick with the consequences of her action. She spit as the taste of iron filled her mouth.

“The next shot will kill me. Let her go!” Villanelle shouted, both because her ears were ringing and because of the anger that flared wildly in her heart.

“ _Fine!_ Just put it down, for the love of god - Joseph, escort her out…” Hélène mumbled to one of the men at her side, eyes wide with shock.

“She walks out alone. You don’t try to follow her. Eve, take the keys, the car is out front. Leave. Leave, and _don’t look for me_. Okay?” Villanelle demanded. She was in control for now. The room would bow to _her_ if they wanted her compliance.

“You drive a hard bargain, Villanelle. Go, then, Eve, before I change my mind. No funny business, or she gets shot in the back and you’ll be beaten into submission.” Hélène snapped, pulling her fingers from her hair.

Eve stood, legs shaking and tears flowing unhindered. She moved towards Villanelle, trembling and looking terribly small.

“Go, Eve. Please.” Villanelle whispered; she had played her hand, and it was up to Eve to escape while she could. Eve snatched the keys from the floor, but hesitated.

Hand reaching for the door, Eve paused in front of Villanelle, leaning up to kiss her blood soaked lips.

Villanelle’s eyes slipped shut for that brief, sweet moment before Eve was gone.

As Hélène's men descended on her, she was left to wonder if that kiss would be their last.


	15. FRANCE; An Alley and a Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve's crisis reaches a boiling point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little different!
> 
> This chapter is entirely in Eve's POV.
> 
> Enjoy, and try not to drag me too much in the comments this time. :)

The crack of a silenced gun.

Villanelle’s scream.

A cascade of wet, hot crimson slithering down like a flash flood over features she had spent hours kissing, licking, loving only hours before.

Eve’s brain was on fire, heart thrumming so hard and fast that she felt like her eardrums were about to burst from the intensity of it. When she kissed Villanelle, it was to center herself. To remember. The stench of singed flesh replaced the sensory memory of Raymond’s blood in her temporal lobe, buried itself there as a testament to a love she did not deserve. When she kissed her, the blood on Villanelle’s lips slid into her mouth, heavy iron on her tongue, almost overbearing like the woman herself. It was all too intense. Everything was too heavy. She felt like she was being lashed tight to every bit of floor her feet passed over, legs dragging as she moved through the store, clinging so hard to the keys in her hands that the teeth bit into her palms. She paused to look at the horrified clerk.

“Give me a phone.” She said, her voice low and crackling. She felt like she hadn’t spoken in weeks.

“I don’t —” The girl said, brows furrowed.

Eve leaned across the counter, fingers gathering up her collar. Was that Villanelle’s blood on her fingers?

“Now.” She hissed. The terror in the girl’s eyes doubled at the look Eve must have given, a look she was only barely aware of. She was broken by her own actions - leaving Villanelle, being captured, being saved, and now barely hiding the look in her eyes that must have told the girl she was truly desperate and willing to hurt her.

A phone dropped on to the counter. It was the girls phone, pushed towards her by shaking hands.

“What’s your pin?” Eve asked, still holding her collar.

“It - it’s 8 2 1 0.” She stuttered.

Eve reached into the pocket of her leggings, fishing out a handful of euro notes and slamming them on the counter. She didn’t count it. She didn’t care. Taking the phone, she shuffled out of the building and looked around. The sun was too bright and she could still feel that woman’s fingers in her hair, kneading her scalp, stroking the way that Villanelle did - but it was tainted and wrong. It had made her feel small and helpless, where Villanelle only made her feel mighty and capable. Capable of anything. Capable of too, too much. Capable of a passion she had been lacking for years, capable of ambitions that she had thought faded away after her father died, and capable of horrific violence. Violence so terrifying and raw that the mental image still rattled around her head. Her fingers could still recall the subtle way the axe trembled when it struck bone just as easily as they recalled Villanelle trembling around them.

Villanelle.

 _Don’t look for me_.

As she pulled into the drivers seat of the car, the command simmered in the heat between her ears. Don’t look for me. What was so strange about her saying that? Why did it stick out in her mind more than the rest? She turned the engine on and sped away from the storefront. She had to put some distance between herself and Hélène. She had been seeking out a phone when she was somehow found by the woman and her goons. How had they found her so easily? How did they _keep_ finding them? Would they ever be free? Her throat went tight as anxiety crept into her limbs. It wrapped around her every vein and capillary, threatening to freeze her in place. She felt a noise rise from her throat and escape her mouth, but she didn’t hear it, not with her ears ringing the way they were. She pulled the car into an alley, only barely getting it into park; she very nearly collided with the building, stopping mere inches before she could no longer control her body.

Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest, slamming so hard against her ribcage that she could barely stand the pain. Her fingers clutched her shirt. Was this a heart attack? It hurt so horribly that she couldn’t imagine it being anything else - she couldn’t imagine anything at all, in fact. She dropped in her seat, slumping to the side, yanking her leaden legs up into it with her, laying her exhausted body across the center console and allowing her head to drop to the passenger side. Whatever the unfamiliar feeling was gripping her body, she was powerless against it, sobbing a wretched sob. No tears escaped with the noise. She let the pain wash over her, surrendering to it as easily as she had surrendered to Hélène when she had been cornered.

Her thoughts were shattered into fragments that she was unable to pull together; why had she left the safety of Villanelle’s arms, again? It had been so warm there, those perfect arms holding her so securely. So much different from the cold she felt at that moment, alone in the car while Villanelle was in the custody of some gorgeous monster. Hélène, that dangerous, previously faceless entity that had manifested just in time to snatch Eve at her most vulnerable to use her as bait for her lover. And oh, how effective it was. It was so effective that Eve questioned her reality for a fleeting moment; had she done it on purpose? Had she somehow, someway known that Hélène was there for them, that she would stop at nothing to get Villanelle back? Surely Eve hadn’t expected Villanelle not to follow her. If she was one thing, it was determined, and Eve _knew_ that.

The crinkling of a paper beneath her head brought her back to reality. She lifted herself a little, pulling the offending object out and feeling a new spike of anguish slide into her spine. The letter.

It had been right before sunup that she had penned the letter, she remembered. She had been watching Villanelle sleep and sobbing silently and uncontrollably, thinking of all the things she had ruined and already mourning the next thing she would destroy. Villanelle had fallen for her so hard and deep that Eve had found it easy to click into that role for her. To be her lover, her co-conspirator, her partner in crime. It was so much easier to live for her in those days than it was to confront all the things that were churning beneath the surface. It was like that old saying; a watched pot never boils. If she didn’t acknowledge the things that she had done, the life she had ruined, the life she had _taken_ , then it would never come to a head. She could work through it a little at a time, with Villanelle’s help. But she had allowed herself to close her eyes for just a moment, and it had all boiled over inside of her, even with Villanelle holding her tight and doing everything she could to protect them both.

Villanelle.

She was so fucking strong. She could hold the entire world on her back and never flinch, couldn’t she?

If only Eve could be so strong.

If only she had left earlier, before everything they had endured those last few days, Villanelle would still be free, running away to find a place for herself in the world. Eve had ruined it for them both with her cowardice. She had let Villanelle love her and it would be her undoing. She frowned at her words on the page.

_Please don’t look for me._

What a stupid statement. She had to have known that Villanelle would look for her. Someone as bull-headed as she would never have accepted the letter at face value, would never have let the matter lie without confronting her in person. She would have followed Eve no matter what. Eve had just been so overwhelmed with emotions that she had never felt, so terrified of what had happened and of what she had become that she couldn’t stop herself from running. She couldn’t find another solution at the time, thinking that maybe if she went back to England she could do something to help, thinking that she could throw something at the Twelve to distract them from her while being under the protection of MI6 in some capacity, figuring that Carolyn owed her as much.

But Carolyn didn’t owe her anything. She had made it clear even before Rome that Eve was on her own when it came to Villanelle and that the entire operation was not officially sanctioned. And Carolyn was nothing if not clear and ruthless in a way that would have made her an incredible foe, had she been born in Russia rather than England. Carolyn would not help her now. Niko had moved out before she left. She had left Hugo to die. Even Kenny would likely not want to hear from her, after all she had done. As her heart rate finally began to even out, Eve stared at the letter, fingers tracing over the warped paths her tears had taken early that morning. She frowned even heavier when she realized that they were still damp. Had Villanelle cried, reading her hasty, scattered apologies? Eve felt truly reprehensible as it hit her. Until she had been given the letter, Villanelle was likely ready to strike her down. She had taken half of the money mostly to ensure that Villanelle realized she had left on her own so that she wouldn’t assume that Eve had been stolen by the Twelve. The letter came from a deep, pitiful need to make sure that Villanelle didn’t hate her for leaving.

Eve slowly lifted back up, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. She was lost, and the only person she could talk to was now basically a prisoner. Villanelle had sacrificed herself for Eve. She had _disfigured_ herself for Eve. The soul-shattering horror of watching her turn the gun on herself was something Eve would not soon forget. Though she knew that Villanelle was smart enough to position the gun so as not to give herself permanent damage, she had _shot herself_ to ensure that Eve was allowed to leave safely. How had she become so selfless? What had Eve done to deserve it, other than love her? Would Eve have done the same for her? If she had only kept her distance - if she had only heeded the warnings of literally everybody in her life not to allow herself to be tangled up with the younger woman, it would be so much different. They would both be free, and —

And, she realized suddenly, she would be completely miserable still.

She would be stagnant, shackled to a man she only loved out of habit, in a job with no meaning.

Without Villanelle, she was nothing. Just another desk jockey seeking out meaning in the arbitrary, suppressing the urges that would cause others to question her.

With Villanelle, everything meant something - _she_ meant something.

Those past few days, though full of chaos, fear, and an underlying miasma of pain, held more meaning to Eve than the last ten years of her life. She had transformed into something different, into someone new, but not at all unfamiliar. Villanelle had given her something in three days that she would never have gotten with Niko in a lifetime; permission. She had permission to explore, to be strange and wild, to lash out and coddle, to fuck on a train or steal from a rich woman. She could be ugly and unhinged and answer only to herself for once in her life, to seek out pointless pleasure and horrible violence. Maybe she and Villanelle would explode, or fizzle out, but maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe she would soften Villanelle’s edges while Villanelle sharpened hers, and they would temper one another in the brilliant heat of passion.

All she knew was that she couldn’t bear it alone. This part of her was so new and wild that it terrified her because she had only _just_ begun to allow it to surface. A lifetime of bending the knee and behaving the way a woman like her was meant to behave had made the little monster that lived inside of her unpredictable, impossible to control and understand without help. Villanelle would understand it. She would know how to help Eve, to soothe her anger and repulsion, to learn how to accept her darkness. There was nobody in the world who could understand her the way that Villanelle did, and she had almost certainly ruined it. She had betrayed her again, taken Villanelle’s willingness to trust her and thrown it back in her face because she didn’t understand herself. The first time was justifiable as revenge. This time, though?

Could Villanelle forgive her?

How could Eve possibly begin to explain what was going on in her head in a way that would make Villanelle overlook the pain she had caused, the damage she had wrought?

She glanced down at the phone.

Tapping in the code, she pulled up the call app, staring at it.

She had to do something. She had to get Villanelle back, if only to explain herself. She owed her that much, and so much more. If Villanelle chose to forgive her, good - if not, at least she would be free to enact whatever vengeance she needed to make herself feel better. Eve would understand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to center herself once again, looking down at the numbers.

_Please don’t look for me._

She smiled. What a stupid statement.

Opening her eyes, she was briefly thankful for her technological ineptitude; she always made it a point to remember important phone numbers. She dialed and pulled the phone to her ear, taking a deep breath.

“… ‘Ello?” A tired sounding Kenny answered, sleep still evident in his voice. Eve had no idea what time it actually was.

“Kenny? It’s Eve.” She mumbled, clearing her throat.

“Eve!? Bloody hell, Eve, where are you, where have you been - you’re _alive_! I thought for sure…” Kenny began to ramble, waking up immediately at the sound of her voice. She smiled, closing her eyes. Maybe Kenny could be the link to her past life that she needed, sometime in the future.

“It’s a long story and I promise you the next time I see you in person I’ll explain it all - right now I need your help. It’s - it’s urgent.” She explained, bringing a hand up to chew at her nails.

“I don’t work for MI6 anymore, Eve… I quit after that business in Rome. I couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t know if I can help - I’ll try but I can’t make promises, alright? Is it… did you really run away with her?” Kenny sighed. She could imagine him in her mind’s eye, sitting at the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair to focus himself. She could imagine the way his brow furrowed in confusion and acceptance.

“Even if you could just… help me get my head on straight, it would help. Hearing your voice is helping.” She said, alarmed at how true it was, “Yeah - crazy, right? I ran away with her. It’s been a wild couple of days. They’ve been chasing us and… I fucked up, Kenny. I slipped up and now they have her.”

“They -” Kenny started; then his voice dipped down to a more quiet level, as if someone might be listening in, “The Twelve?”

“They kept finding us, Kenny - I don’t know how - and then I freaked out and tried to leave and they snatched me up within like… twenty minutes of being away from her. This woman and a bunch of muscles pulled me into the back room of a store I’d gone into. They didn’t even tie me up or anything, just - told me that if I didn’t cooperate they’d kill us both. They used me to get to her, and she… she followed after me, Kenny. After everything - she still followed after me, and she got them to let me go. She did something crazy, I can’t - I can’t think about it right now. I just - I need to save her, Kenny. I owe her, and I…” Eve trailed, closing her eyes as a rush of emotion threatened to pummel her.

“Jesus, Eve. You really got it bad for her, don’t you?” Kenny said, voice gentle.

“I love her.” Eve admitted.

“Yeah, I can tell. Um - alright. What do you need me to do, then? Can you tell me where you are? Give me some details, something I can work with.” Kenny asked. She sensed no judgment in his voice. Maybe he understood, in some strange way - or at the very least, maybe he just accepted it. Kenny was silent for a moment; Eve could hear shuffling on the other line

“Do you still have access to the systems?” Eve raised her brows.

“Well, not officially, but the new tech guy doesn’t start until Monday and I left the back door cracked in case I needed something.” Kenny was grinning, she just knew it.

“God, I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole, I -” Eve began, only for Kenny to cut her off.

“Eve, tell me what you need. It’s weird hearing you apologize, don’t do it.”

Eve smiled.

“The woman who found us, this time - she’s got to be one of the higher ups. Higher than Konstantin, probably, because Villanelle didn’t recognize her… she said she’s been watching her. The name she gave us is Hélène. She took a call when she first got me and was speaking in French, and her accent was French. Whoever the person on the other line was had to have been a kid… I think she’s a mom. She was wearing heels but she can’t have been taller than me - probably about five foot four. White, green eyes, brunette with shoulder length hair - very Roman nose. Perfect cheekbones. I need to know where she is, or where she’s going - she’s got Villanelle.” Eve described Hélène as best she could. She could hear Kenny tapping the keys on the other side.

“Spent a while lookin’ at her, didja?” Kenny sounded like he wanted to chuckle, and Eve could only glare.

“I have a… strong memory when it comes to faces.” Eve muttered. “Would it help if I told you where I was when I got taken by them?”

“Well, personally it’d help me to know where you are, but I don’t know that -” Kenny started.

“A half mile from Hotel Helussi in Paris. Maybe a little further. I think I went east of it, ended up in a little convenience store… She had six men with her. I didn’t see a car or anything, but experience says they’re probably in some black van because they’re nothing if not a shadow organization that can’t be bothered to be unique about how they carry on.” Eve told him.

“Eve - what’s your plan?” Kenny sighed as he typed. The worry in his voice was thick.

“My plan?” Eve blinked at the concept. “I have to get her back, Kenny…”

“Yeah, but _how_? You said they have six men. What do you have? How are you going to get her?” Kenny asked.

The question was sobering. She was caught up in the what with no answer as to the how. She sank into the seat, brows furrowing; Kenny was right. How the hell could she possibly hope to save Villanelle when she had been caught up so easily by Hélène? She had no guns, no practical skills. She had her brain, but even that wasn’t working up to standard at that point. Her head ached, as if to remind her it was barely working. The cogs in her mind that usually turned so cohesively had been stopped up by panic and impulsiveness. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I - I don’t know. I have a car, a phone, some money. But my leg and arm are injured, I’m alone, and I can’t think straight. Help me, Kenny.” Eve’s voice went soft, pleading.

“I am. I’ll find her, but I won’t tell you a thing ‘til I know your head’s right. Well, right for _you_ at least. How much money do you have - and I assume the car and phone are stolen, since I traced the info on the phone and I know for a fact your name isn’t secretly Genevieve du — that last name is a mouthful, I’m not even gonna try.” Kenny told her.

“I have…” Eve began, pulling the money from her pockets, biting her lip. “I’m not counting it. It’s over three thousand euro. It was V’s. The car and phone are stolen, yeah.”

“Three thousand? Hell. Well - alright… A car, a phone, money - what else have you got, Eve?” Kenny asked.

“I don’t have anything, Kenny. I don’t even have a functioning brain right now.”

“You’ve got me. You’ve got her. Your brain works just fine, yeah? You remembered my phone number and you remembered her description so well that I found her right off.” Kenny told her.

“You found her?” Eve sat up straighter.

“Don’t get too excited; I only found some records, nothing too concrete. I’m sure I can make something of it though - the kid, was it a boy or girl?”

“Kids all sound the same to me, Kenny, I don’t know.” Eve sighed, trying to center her mind, to focus on Kenny’s words - she had him. She had Villanelle, in some way. And he was right - she had her mind. She could come up with something as long as she knew where to find her. Eve was quiet for a moment, frowning, wracking her brain to come up with something logical to break Villanelle free… but then it clicked. She had been thinking in terms of legality without realizing it when nothing she had done in days had been legal. She had broken so many laws that it was almost absurd to realize that she still felt constrained by them. The gears in her head began to grind with motivation, her mind opening up to new possibilities.

“I can’t approach them straight out, obviously. I’ll be completely overwhelmed right away and then she and I will both be trapped. They’ll use me against her to make her do their bidding - they know how she feels about me, and… that she’d do just about anything to keep me safe. She’s definitely shown me that more than once. I’m no good with weapons and I feel like if I even so much as touch a gun or anything I’ll throw up with the way my day has been going - ugh, even thinking about it is making me a little nauseous, shit.” Eve closed her eyes, shaking her head. “But I’m not going to get her without a fight, am I?”

“Probably not.” Kenny said, keeping quiet after to allow her to run through her train of thought.

“Once I get her, I’ll need some sort of escape plan. We already spoke about planes - they’re too risky, and I don’t have a passport… We’re trying to get to Alaska. That’s the goal. Maybe if we can get to New York, or Boston, or Quebec by boat - hell, even Halifax might work.” Eve said.

“Why Alaska? That’s so far off, the way you’re heading. It’ll take ages to travel across the US and Canada to get there, and that’s assuming you don’t get stopped up again.” Kenny reasoned.

“That’s where she wanted to go. She said it’s quiet, and nobody would bother us…” Eve told him, smiling softly. “I want to give her what she wants, Kenny. After everything…”

“Well, alright. Iceland’s closer, but if you’re up for the trip… you know, I could probably get you a passport for that leg, across Canada or the States or wherever you two end up. So you can take a plane like a normal person.” Kenny suggested.

“Could you? I have V’s passport here… God, would that even be safe? It seems like they’re getting us everywhere. They found us on a train. Boarded after we got on and went through two stations… They found me here and we weren’t even using our names, and we’ve been good about staying hidden.” Eve still couldn’t parse it.

“Maybe they put a chip in her.” Kenny suggested with such a remarkably calm tone that Eve couldn’t speak for a brief moment.

“… A chip? Like a GPS chip?” Eve’s head felt ready to explode.

“No - we don’t have that sort of tech yet. If she had something GPS enabled on her she would know it - they’re still too bulky for that sort of stuff. But… There are implantable RFID chips. We’ve had those for a while now, and they’re small enough that they can be implanted in the hand without discomfort - or, if you’re an international assassin that tends to wander, without notice during a checkup.” Kenny told her.

“Kenny… Can you explain this to me like I’m stupid? Because I truly feel really, really fucking stupid and I though RFID chips were just a credit card thing.” Eve whined softly.

“They are, for the majority, but they can be more than that. Let me explain it this way - you know how when you use your card at the store, it sends a signal from the machine to your bank, essentially? It’s all paperless.” He explained, “Now - put one of those into a person, but adjust the values; assign that person an identifier, and assign that identifier to a localized machine at - I don’t know, Twelve Headquarters - instead of a bank. So when Villanelle’s chip hits something that has chip reader, the signal gets sent to the headquarters and they can pinpoint where she’s been. You said they got you on a train - did you use a machine to get the tickets, or did you go through an agent?”

“The machine… oh god. And the hotel obviously has one too. Oh god. That makes so much sense. Holy crap, Kenny. Your mind. I’m so glad I remembered your phone number. How can I get rid of it?” She asked, near tears. She didn’t know why she was near tears; maybe it was that she was finally getting some answers. Maybe she was still just overwhelmed by the situation.

“Find it, cut it out of her, and crush it. Simple. They’re usually about the size of a grain of rice so it might be tricky, though. And if it isn’t in her hand it could be in one of her arms… Eve! I found her! Well, Hélène, not Villanelle - but I think I know where they’re going.” Kenny said.

“Tell me.” Eve said; her tears spilled over, heart beginning to pound in anticipation of what would come next.

“Eve - what’s your plan, first? I’ve been thinking for days that you were dead - I want to know for sure you aren’t about to get yourself killed.” Kenny sounded unsure - though Eve couldn’t blame him, it didn’t quell her frustration.

“I’m going to force them to evacuate.” She said simply.

“… How? I’m almost afraid to know.”

“I’m going to set it on fire.”

She decided on it the moment she said it out loud. It was easy enough to create a fire capable of property destruction; all she needed was an open window, a lighter, and some hair spray. She would break the windows if she had to. And if there were sprinkler systems in the place, it would still cause them to evacuate. She would get in and find Villanelle in the chaos, and escape with her. She went into the car’s center console and retrieved something she had seen when she and Villanelle had first gotten the car. A safety hammer. They were made specifically to shatter glass in the event of an emergency. She grinned; all she needed were a few things from whatever open store she next came across.

“… Eve, you’ve gone completely mad, haven’t you?” Kenny said with obvious distress.

“Love makes you do crazy things, Kenny. Crazier still when you love an assassin, I guess. After we’re somewhere safe I’ll tell you all about the dumb crap I’ve been doing… but for now, I need you to text me the address and anything you know about the building. Please.”

“Eve, I -”

“Kenny. If you don’t I’m going to go surrender myself to them to try and get her back. At least this way I have a chance, right?” She had to make him understand. He had to know how far she was willing to go to make things right with Villanelle.

“Eve… is she really worth all this? You can come back home, I’ll have your back on everything. She can go back to working with them and you can… do anything. I’ll talk to my mum, we -” Kenny tried to reason with her, but Eve cut him off.

“I can’t, Kenny. Carolyn - she’s dead to me. Niko left. Bill is dead. I left Hugo to die. Elena doesn’t speak to me anymore, and all of my friends were Niko’s first… But Villanelle? She’s my new start, and I’m hers. I’m going to find her with or without your help, Kenny, and I know you don’t understand now but… I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to accept it. Accept it, and help me. I won’t ask for anything else - you don’t ever have to talk to me after this if you don’t want to, I would accept that. I don’t want that, but I would get it. Help me. Please.” Eve told him.

“… bloody hell, Eve. God, I shouldn’t be doing this, this is ridiculous. Sod it. I’ll send it - on one condition, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll help you two get away… but you have to stay in touch, yeah? And if you two make it where you’re going, you best invite me to your wedding.”

“You’ll be my maid of honor, Kenny.” Eve laughed, bringing a hand up to wipe at her eyes.

“Only if Villanelle picks out my dress. She’s much better dressed than you.” He joked. “Talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Very soon. I bet your ass would look great if you wore heels, too. And Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Carolyn that I’m alive.”

—————

Eve had everything she needed. A pack of lighters, the safety hammer, the location, and enough metal canisters of Aquanet to stage a drag revue. Kenny didn’t have much information about the place other than that it looked typically French (a typical country house) and was miles outside of the city proper. He knew there was a security system, and that the place had multiple entrances; the safest bet to making it inside being the servant’s entrance on the side. As she watched the place from down the road, she considered her options, her possible approach. It was fenced and gated, and there were cameras surveying the area. She would have to approach on foot if she had any chance of avoiding capture; all of her previous anxiety had simmered down into a soft, tepid nervousness. She accepted that what she was doing was completely ludicrous. She was no spy, nor was she an assassin who might have the sort of skill needed to pull something so mind bendingly stupid off. She wasn’t even particularly physically fit.

The only thing she had going for her was tenacity. Stupid, brainless tenacity. She owed Villanelle her effort. She owed her an explanation, an apology - she owed her her very life. She spent the drive fighting to numb her fears to focus on the thought of her. As she left the car and moved towards the estate, moving through the brush on the western side, her nerves were alight. She wondered if Villanelle ever got nervous before a kill, or if the Twelve had trained the nerves out of her. Did she get excited? Did she get bored with the process up until the kill? When she was pretending to be somebody else, did she inhabit the role like an actress, or was it like wearing a special outfit that just made you act a little different?

As she reached the fence and saw the vans parked in front, she thought of Villanelle’s face. She imagined her every expression. The way she wiggled her brows when she made a stupid, sexual joke. The ease in which her eyes filled with tears, feeling safe to show pain around Eve. She thought of her lips, of her grins and frowns. She thought of the sounds that came out of her; the irritated grunts, the off key singing, the raucous laughter, the way her accent thickened when she was turned on - the confounding, beautiful way that she barely made a noise higher than a sigh when she had an orgasm.

Eve trailed outside of the fence; the bars were slick iron, impossible to climb without skills that Eve most certainly didn’t have. She searched for a gap, or some place she could get footing; she almost laughed when she found a section where bushes had been planted, because they had been planted to avoid repairing the damage that the fence had incurred there. There was a spot down low where a few bars had rusted through and bent, almost invisibly if you weren’t looking for it. It was the smallest of gaps, but Eve was a small woman. Small and desperate. She got down low and began to jam her body through, grimacing as sharp, rusted metal grazed over her back. She took a deep breath, pushing through the pain and into the bush. She bit her lip hard to avoid crying out.

Of course they were rose bushes. _Of_ _ **fucking**_ _course they were rose bushes!_

She took a deep breath as she crouched into them, ignoring the thorns pricking through the fabric of her clothing.

She thought of Villanelle’s hands, and everything they were capable. When she had her back, those hands would soothe her aches and bind her wounds. If Villanelle still wanted to touch her after this. She closed her eyes and imagined her arms. She imagined the curvature of her forearms, the bend of her elbow, and the definition of her upper arms. The terrifying strength of those arms, so capable of both tenderness and destruction. Villanelle’s strength would pull Eve through. What would she do in this situation? If Eve was the one being held captive, what would she do, having only what Eve had? She could picture it; she would check the cameras on the fences to figure out the blind spot. She would move through it and find the closest window.

She stuck the hammer in her waistband, tested the lighters, and got the hairspray ready.

Stalking across the smaller side yard after watching the cameras path, ignoring the thorns stuck in wherever they could stick, she made it to the window and tested it; it wasn’t locked. She pushed it up, and, without looking inside, flicked the light and ignited her makeshift flamethrower. She sprayed and sprayed until her thumb burned on the lighter. There was a distinct _woosh_ from the inside as something caught; it was only a second before the curtains went up, too. She moved away from the window to the next, peeking over her shoulder to the cameras. This window was locked; one well placed crack brought glass pouring down on her, and she lit the place up just as quickly. There was something unsettlingly satisfying about watching the fire twist and shriek from out from the stream. Though she couldn’t see what was lighting up because of her height, she saw smoke begin to pour out.

She dipped down low, running the opposite way - a new room, a new fire. She allowed herself to get reckless.

Three broken windows, three more fires, two empty hairspray containers chucked inside to explode from the pressure and heat.

There were voices inside, confused at first - and then yelling, screaming out in French as the fire spread. The walls were all stone, but inside Eve could see wooden beams, wooden crown molding, wooden cabinets in the kitchen, fabric; there was more than enough to start a frenzy inside. She tucked herself around the corner, watching the main entrance. She had a third container at the ready, and a new lighter. Smoke billowed out of the side of the house, flames licking just outside of the windows she had broken. The yelling grew louder as people began to evacuate the building.

Eve thought of Villanelle’s stomach, and the scar she had carved into her what seemed like years before. As she snuck into the servants entrance, she thought of the way it felt beneath her fingers; how pink and sensitive it was, and the way it made Villanelle’s stomach tighten when she stroked it. She thought of Villanelle’s abdominal muscles, gently defined at rest and spectacular when she flexed them. She thought of her breasts, and her neck. She thought about the heart contained within Villanelle’s chest, and how happy she had been to offer it to Eve when she had gotten the chance. It had been hers to protect, but Eve had cast it aside in a moment of weakness. She would understand if she didn’t trust her with it again; Eve wouldn’t trust her if she had done the same.

She would earn her trust back.

She would earn her love back, if she had to.

Smoke billowed through the halls as fire spread; where Eve saw no fire, she made more. She would gut the building if she had to in search of Villanelle. She would rain hellfire on anybody who crossed her path. She would fight and claw and spew fire to save Villanelle.

“Villanelle!” She shouted, making her way through the halls. “V, where are you!?”

No answer. She continued on, even as the smoke began to fill her nostrils. She pulled her shirt up over it, a makeshift filter.

“Villanelle!” She bellowed it, desperation in her voice evident.

“Eve!?”

Villanelle!

“V! Where are you! Keep yelling - I’ll find you!” She screamed.

“Eve I’m down here, they put me in the wine cellar! They tied me to a chair!” Villanelle shrieked in response. “Where the hell is this smoke coming from? What did you do, you crazy woman!?”

Eve followed her voice to the kitchen; she called out her name, and Villanelle called out hers in response. The double doors leading to the wine cellar were predictably locked. She pounded a fist on them.

“Eve, you have to kick it open, or find something heavy enough to break the lock!” Villanelle called.

“How do I kick it open? My legs are so scrawny, I don’t know if I can—” Eve panicked more in that moment than she had the entire time she was lighting the place up. Villanelle’s voice, so close but still so far, had made her so much more scared, so much more acutely aware of what she was doing.

“Your legs are so strong Eve! They’re a warrior’s legs and you’re going to break down that door in your sandals! You can do this! Step back and kick as hard as you can to the bottom part of the lock - don’t hit the middle of the door, or the knob - you want to break the lock! Keep your leg bent, too!” Villanelle encouraged behind the door. Eve could hear her struggling in her bindings.

“If I break my foot—” Eve whined softly, taking a deep breath.

“I’ll carry you until it heals, just _do it!_ ”

She backed up, and rammed her foot into the spot. The door barely budged, but she heard a distinct crack and for a moment was convinced that she had broken a bone. But the pain wasn’t the intense, searing pain of a broken foot. She persisted - another hard kick, putting her full (admittedly minuscule) weight behind it. Wood began to splinter.

“Eve, you’re doing it! You’re doing it!” Villanelle yelled encouragement from behind the doors as Eve kicked again, so hard it would bruise, so hard that her bones could crack just as easily as the wood of the door - the pain was intense, but she was so close. She planted her feet and threw a shoulder into the doors and felt them give, and finally, finally spring open. She nearly fell through them, but kept her feet, moving to the middle of the cellar where Villanelle was bound to a chair.

“Holy crap, Eve. Holy shit. Is that hairspray?” Villanelle’s voice took a higher pitch as Eve barreled towards her, catching herself on the chair.

“I set a _lot_ of stuff on fire. We have to get out of here - I - V, I’m so sorry.” Eve looked at the ropes. They were thick, and she couldn’t see where they ended.

“Eve, you can apologize later… you have to burn these ropes. Free me so we can get the hell out of here.” Villanelle whispered, staring at her face.

“Oh god, what if I set you on fire, I can’t -”

“Eve, just _do it_ , if I catch fire at least I’ll be able to put it out if I’m not tied down. Do it at my back, get my hands loose, okay? You can do this, baby.” Villanelle whispered frantically.

Eve took a deep, heavy breath. She pressed herself against the back of the chair, positioning herself to burn a rope far enough away to avoid catching Villanelle’s clothing. She soaked the rope in hair spray and lit it that way, pulling at the rope as it burned; she pulled, pulled, pulled, watching the fibers begin to burn apart, yanking at them with all her strength to help the process.

And suddenly, rope was broken. The next moment was a blur; Villanelle struggled free, shoving her bindings free, pulling herself up - and she took Eve by the arms, pulling her with her. She could barely see straight - there was smoke in her eyes, in her nose, in her mouth, in her lungs, but then…

The shirt was yanked from in front of her face, and Villanelle’s lips were on hers. Oh, Villanelle’s lips - lips she felt lucky to touch, a kiss so harsh that it felt dually like punishment and relief. Eve felt the tension pool at her feet and disappear, mingling with the smoke and flitting away.

“I forgive you. Let’s get out of here.” Villanelle whispered against her mouth.

Eve couldn’t be sure if the taste of tears that hit her lips were her own or Villanelle’s.

Together, they fled.


	16. FRANCE; An Unnamed Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve stop to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday.
> 
> I've been a little scattered this week, so I hope this still came out alright.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.

The car was silent as Villanelle drove away from the scene of Eve’s latest crime. Too silent. _Awkwardly_ silent. She was having a hard time thinking of what to say to her, and used the need to focus on their flight as an excuse to herself to stay quiet. She was still pained by Eve’s abandonment, though she had forgiven her for it instantly when she came barreling into the wine cellar armed with naught but holy rage and arson. Villanelle had been brooding and planning the entire time Hélène had her, looking for a way out while dwelling on how colossally wrong it had all gone. The assumption that she was alone again, once more to be used as a pawn to do the Twelve’s bidding, weighed so heavy on her heart that when Hélène tried to “discuss her future” all she had been able to do was spit at her. A snarling, dejected animal, she had refused to have her cheek attended to until the black-clad goons had physically held her still to stitch the trench in her cheek.

“Of all the places you could have shot, why your lovely face?” Hélène had sounded so annoyed, voice bearing the gentle cadence of a disappointed mother.

“Чтоб тебе дети в суп срали!” Villanelle had growled, reverting to Russian in her anguish.

“You’ll forgive me if my Russian is a little rusty - Vladimir, please translate for our friend.” Hélène looked to the man who held Villanelle’s face steady between his massive paws.

“Ahh… Well… that basically means ‘I hope your children shit in your soup’, ma’am.” Vladimir translated.

“No one does insults quite like the Russians, I suppose.”

Her wild refusals to talk or cooperate had quickly found her bound to a chair, too tight to move even a little. The man who tied her up had tightened her bindings after Villanelle headbutted him and very nearly split the stitches on her cheek. Unable to move, Villanelle had started to scream every time Hélène tried to talk to her. She had basically made it her mission to make things as difficult as possible for Hélène to see any use in her. She knew she wouldn’t be freed, but she would be damned if she would be at all willing to work with them. A noisy, useless rebellion that had gotten her stashed in the wine cellar shortly after their arrival at the manor, a gag binding her mouth. She had been able to work the gag out of her mouth over the course of an hour… just in time to see the smoke crawling into the cellar, and then to hear Eve screaming her name. Part of her had known that Eve would come for her. Maybe in the days to follow, or the weeks after, once Villanelle’s will had been broken and she had returned to her foul work. Maybe in months, when Eve had returned to England and attempted to get her life back in order, they would collide once again, because they couldn’t stay apart.

Nothing had prepared her for the sight of Eve, covered in rose thorns, hairspray in hand and safety hammer tucked into her shirt. She was absolutely insane, and Villanelle’s anger and sorrow at the events of the morning had given way to relief. She was anesthetized by Eve’s willingness to throw herself into what was the most dangerous situation she had ever been in, and as they had run from the burning manor and to the car, she felt so calm it was almost unnerving. Eve hadn’t said anything after Villanelle kissed her - just took her hand and led her to the freedom of their stolen car. She could only imagine what was running through Eve’s mind, and even in her imagining she assumed that she wouldn’t understand. Villanelle knew that they had a lot to talk about, but the very act of opening her mouth to do so seemed so difficult.

She was relieved when Eve chose to break the silence.

“Find a road to pull off into… or off into the woods - just, anywhere we can get some cover.” Eve mumbled, looking to her. Her face was unreadable, covered in the aftermath of her rampage through the manor. She smelled of chemical smoke, and her fingertips were blistered in places.

“Sure.” Villanelle agreed. It was a mercy that they didn’t appear to have been followed so far, and pulling off on to a dirt road to tuck into the woods was easy, “Can you see the main road from here?”

Eve glanced out the windows, front to back, checking, and shook her head.

“Good.” Villanelle drew her tongue over her lips, leaning back against the driver’s seat, watching her, “I, um… How does your foot feel?”

“Like I kicked a door in without shoes on.” Eve said it with a touch of amusement, turning to see her better, “It’ll be fine. I think I need to explain things, right? I think I owe you an explanation.”

Villanelle agreed, but did so silently, reaching across to take one of Eve’s hands. There were thorns lodged beneath the skin from their passing through - she had used that hand to hold them back for her. Carefully, she began to pull them out, allowing Eve to fill the silence she provided with whatever she needed to say. Eve gave a short gasp as it slid out from beneath her skin, but didn’t pull away. It was relaxed in Villanelle’s, despite the pain. She pressed her thumb over the now bleeding spot, holding pressure on it for a moment to stop give it time to stop. She was entirely aware of the way that Eve was staring at her face, but didn’t raise her eyes to meet them. For once, let Eve be the one to stare.

“Last night I couldn’t sleep. I kept falling into it then coming out just as quickly, and eventually I just lost it. I sat there crying and all of a sudden it felt like… like this pressure on my chest.” Eve began to explain as Villanelle sought out another thorn.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I kept thinking about what I’d done. I kept imagining his loved ones all gathered and crying over his casket in a church somewhere. I imagined his widow giving a tearful eulogy… I kept thinking about Bill’s funeral. Which is crazy because I didn’t know him the way I knew Bill, but -” Eve paused as Villanelle carefully extracted the next thorn, “… And then I kept getting stuck on everything else. My house, Niko, MI6. Like, really stuck - and I kept hating myself for it. Not hating you - just myself, because these are choices that _I_ made. I kept thinking about how I would fuck things up with you, too, and how I ought to just save you the heartache.”

“That was stupid.” Villanelle said, keeping her tone even.

“Yeah, it was,” Eve looked entirely dejected at her words; usually, Eve would take a playful jab at her in response, and so Villanelle felt bad for saying it, “It was really stupid, and you got hurt because of it. Because I fucked up. Because I can’t _stop_ fucking up.”

Villanelle fell quiet again, resisting the urge to console her. Part of her wanted Eve to feel bad, a petty part of her that always wanted revenge when her feelings were hurt. More so, she was relieved that Eve was talking about it. If she aired out all the things she had been holding in, maybe they could really work out. She pressed down on the newest little wound, examining her hand for more. Finding none, she moved her attention up her arm. Eve waited a moment, watching her before she continued, drawing in and letting out a deep, deep sigh.

“Why can’t I stop fucking up, V? What is it about me? I never used to be this way. I used to have my life together. Now I’m jumping out of trains and committing arson.” Eve asked, eyes boring a hole in Villanelle’s forehead.

“You met me.” Villanelle whispered it. It wasn’t a new revelation; she knew that she was bad for Eve. She knew that she brought out the worst in her. That didn’t make her want her any less, and she was selfish enough to let Eve destroy her life to have her. She never would have let Eve leave that morning if she had just been awake for the breakdown; she would have figured out the right sequence of words to say to get her to stay. If words failed, she would have fucked her until she passed out and hoped that her efforts wiped away the thoughts from her harried mind.

“It isn’t your fault I’m like this, Villanelle.” Eve told her. She wasn’t sure she believed her because there didn’t seem to be any conviction in her voice.

“I definitely had a part in it, Eve. You don’t have to baby me.” Villanelle chewed the inside of her cheek, a spot that she had bitten raw before.

Eve pulled her arm away to take Villanelle’s hand, shifting closer until she was practically sitting on the center console. Villanelle still couldn’t look at her, trapped in the tepid waters of guilt and pain. There were too many things happening inside of her; too many emotions she wasn’t used to feeling, too much guilt where there had never been any before. Was this what it was like to be normal? To feel so many things at the same time, so many that it would take years to sort them all out? She was angry at Eve for leaving, for abandoning her - she was happy that Eve came for her and so wanted to never speak of it again - she was afraid that Eve would leave again, but was more afraid to air that distrust - even now she was so turned on by Eve that she wanted to crawl into the next seat and bury herself inside of her - it was all so confusing. No wonder people were such a mess in their everyday lives. Who could compete with it all? Who could possibly push that Sisyphean boulder of turmoil to a place of acceptance where it wouldn’t come tumbling right back down on them?

The silence only lasted long enough for Eve to push herself all the way into Villanelle’s seat, wedging her slight body between her and the steering wheel. She melted back as far as she could into the seat to allow her, but even still, it couldn’t be comfortable.

“What are you doing?” Villanelle’s brows raised.

“Making you look at me.” Eve informed her.

Something about the action assuaged some of her worries. She was so insistent on eye contact all the time, as if making Villanelle see her would make it all right. Villanelle softened; maybe it would? Like Eve with Raymond’s killing, Villanelle had no real frame of reference for how to handle what she was feeling. She lifted her eyes. The dark ones staring back at her held limitless emotion. Eve’s face held so many feelings, and her eyes were so intense with them that Villanelle couldn’t begin to understand it. How did she live with such weight on her shoulders? She had been so strong for such a long time to bear it; of _course_ it had gotten overwhelming. Who wouldn’t have gone a little mad, in Eve’s situation?

“I’m not babying you, Villanelle. I’m trying to apologize and explain myself, but it’s so hard to figure out what’s going on in me and I just get - I get _stuck_ trying to sort it all out. I… Villanelle, before I met you I was _stagnant_. I was so bored all the time, and not a regular boredom. It was like my _soul_ was bored, does that make sense? Like I was so bored I could feel it down to my soul and nothing ever made it better for long. I was walking through life like I was half asleep. I was just existing.” Eve told her, arms wrapping around her, body pressing into hers so insistently that Villanelle couldn’t help but close her eyes at the sensation. Eve was a weighted blanket laying comfortingly over her torso, secure and warm. She brought hands up to slide up her side, resting them on the backs of Eve’s shoulderblades. Eve’s head dropped to her shoulder, like it had gotten too heavy to keep up.

“Nothing meant anything. I wasn’t important. I was just drifting through life… then I met you, and within such a short time I’ve abandoned — well, _destroyed_ that life, because I knew, somewhere inside, that I couldn’t continue to exist without you. I think… I think that maybe you’re my purpose, Villanelle. That being with you is why I’m on this planet. When I’m with you I feel like… like I’m allowed to be whoever I want to be. Like I have permission to be whatever I am at that point in time. You know? That I don’t have to be normal or meet some stupid fucking expectations, or… even that I have to hold back when I’m feeling something dark. That that part of me isn’t so ugly that I need to crush it down and put it into a little box in my heart. I think that maybe I spent so long squeezing that little monster away into a spot that it finally broke free and I didn’t know how to handle it.” Eve explained in the best way that she could - in a way that was elegant and strange, like her. Villanelle laid her head against Eve’s, fingers tracing along the torn up shirt, gently touching the scrapes where it was ripped. Her back had taken a beating from the broken fence; when she had come through it the first time she must have been rushing through. Her fingers hit the base of a wayward thorn still stuck partly in the fabric, partly in the skin beneath. She removed it gently.

“I was so mad at you, then I read that letter… then I got mad at myself because I didn’t see what was going on with you. I could have. If I had just thought about it instead of telling you to swallow it down and thinking that you wouldn’t feel it after that. I should have seen it.” She told her.

“I should have said something sooner, V. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to fuck everything up to make myself realize.” Eve gripped her a little harder, face pressed to her neck, clinging as if she was worried that Villanelle would throw her off and away, after everything they had been through.

“You didn’t fuck everything up, okay? It hurt me, but I can get through it if I still have you.” Villanelle reassured, wanting to drop the seat back and spend the rest of the day holding her, making sure all of the things inside of her were taken care of.

“Help me, V. Can I ask you to help me?” Eve leaned back a little, looking to her face again.

“Yeah. I’ll help you, okay? I’ll teach you how to deal with your little monster. Let it get to know mine, maybe. We can do a playdate.” Villanelle gave her a little smirk, hoping to get the frown on her lips to wear away.

“Are you sure? I would understand if you didn’t want to…” Eve trailed off when Villanelle’s lips touched hers.

“Eve… it’s kind of a relief that you need me for something, you know. This whole time it’s been you helping me. Teaching me how to be good for you, and how not to mess everything up between us. You’ve been very good at everything so far, I’m super fine with you needing my help. I have to feel useful somehow, right?” Villanelle spoke against her lips. A large part of her was just happy to feel her lips again; an hour ago she would have assumed it was a thing of the past.

“You’ve helped me plenty, V.” Eve kissed her a little harder. “You shot yourself in the face for me.”

“What can I say, I’m devoted,” Villanelle gave a little grin, “Call it a calculated risk… I had to do something crazy to make her let you go. And that worked out for me in the end, ‘cause here we are. We have each other again.”

“If it hadn’t been for me we never would have been in that situation to begin with. And now… you can’t possibly trust me still.”

“Do you want me to be honest with you, Eve? Like, completely honest about how I feel?” She asked, fingers still exploring her back in search of thorns. There were so many.

“Yes,” Eve said, then, “No. Yes. I don’t know. Yes - _yes_ , tell me. Be honest, I can take it.”

“It’s gonna take time for me to trust you again. I’m not going to be able to fall asleep next to you for a long time, probably. Chances are I’ll lay awake until you fall asleep because I’ll be afraid you’ll run away again, and -” Villanelle began. Eve began to say something, but Villanelle stopped her. “Let me get it out, please?”

“Sorry.” Eve mumbled.

“Honestly, it’s probably going to piss you off how nervous I’m gonna be about it. But you aren’t allowed to get mad at me for it, okay? Because I’m not going to be doing it on purpose. When somebody leaves me I…” She frowned, shaking her head. “I go crazy. When I think they’re going to leave, I can’t handle it. My whole life is just people leaving me behind for one thing or another, and I thought you never would because of what we’ve been through. And I - the fact that you left after the day we had? It broke my heart a hundred times at once, Eve. You should have woken me up to talk. I get that you have a lot going on in you, that it got to be too much, but… we’re in this together, remember? We have each other. But we can’t go back in time and take it back, so there’s no point in making you feel bad for doing it. But I also really can’t tell you I’m gonna be okay for a while, so you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Eve’s expression was dejected, shamed.

“No more apologies. You did what you did, I did what I did. I’m just letting you know that I’m going to be weird for a while. I’ll try to work through it, but I need you to tell me something… talking about things like this - it’s all new to me. Tell me - tell me that I’m yours, and you’re mine. And that you aren’t going to leave me again.” Villanelle felt tears beginning to flood her eyes and hated it. She hated the intensity of her emotions, she hated being such a _fucking crybaby_ all the time around Eve.

“Yes, of course.” Eve nodded a little, bringing her hands up to Villanelle’s cheek and chin, careful to avoid the freshly stitched wound on one side. She must have seen the tears swelling, because the dejection was replaced by concern as she stared into her eyes. “V… I’m yours. I’m yours, and you’re mine. I’m sorry that I broke your trust and - and I’ll do whatever I have to to get it back. I _need_ you. I can’t guarantee that I’m going to be perfect or that I’m not going to fight with you but… I’m not leaving. If I get overwhelmed and all - all frazzled again I’ll tell you. You’re right that we’re in this together, because I think we’ve both pretty much ensured that no one else will have us.”

The last bit was said with enough of a hint of amusement that Villanelle had to chuckle a little, watching her face. She believed her as much as she was able to - and knew that if Eve _did_ leave again, that it was likely out of her control, swept away in a storm of her own creation. If and when that happened, she would deal with it in whatever way she could. Until that point, though, Villanelle had her. Eve was hers, and she was Eve’s. Her fingers slid beneath her shirt at her back, sliding along skin both smooth and broken. She had mangled herself to save Villanelle, hadn’t she? And she had found her so quickly. She was puzzled by it, a little, and content enough now to redirect the conversation.

“Good. Now, I don’t want to talk about that anymore for a while, okay? What I wanna talk about now is… how the _hell_ did you find me out here? Did you follow their cars? Because holy shit what a bad idea.” Villanelle both asked and chided gently.

“I had help.” Eve admitted.

“What?” Villanelle was reasonably confused.

“From Kenny. We worked together… he’s Carolyn’s son.” She said, biting her lip a little.

“Eve! Carolyn’s son? Carolyn has a son?” Villanelle was aghast; what if Carolyn found out where they were and went looking for Eve?

“She does - and believe me, if we can trust anybody, it’s him. I took the cashier’s phone at the shop and used that… I described Hélène and he was able to figure out where she was probably keeping you. He won’t tell his mother where we are, and I absolutely, one hundred percent believe that. He quit working for MI6 because of what happened with me.” Eve reassured her quickly, as if she had been waiting for Villanelle to take offense.

“If she comes looking for us you’re dealing with her. I’m not shooting myself again.” Villanelle warned, anxious at the idea of _anybody_ knowing their location; much less Carolyn’s child.

“I promise you, he’s trustworthy. He’s going to help us if he can… he said he can get me a passport once we hit America or Canada, if that’s still where we’re going… He helped me get my head on straight so I could come to you, Villanelle.” Eve sounded desperate for Villanelle to agree, fingers stroking her cheek and chin.

“Okay, okay. Wait - what do you mean, if that’s still where we’re going? Did the plan change since this morning?” Villanelle frowned at her words.

“No, no, we can still go there, but… it’s a long way away. It’ll take so long to get through Canada, or the US - maybe we could consider somewhere else, if only to regroup for a while? To make sure we can really shake the Twelve and not accidentally drag them with us to America?” Eve asked.

“Did you have a place in mind? They keep finding us, Eve…”

“Oh! Two things - yes, I do have a place in mind - and Kenny suggested something else because I complained about the same thing… V, when you worked for them, did you ever get hurt? Did you ever get any… shots or anything, or have any procedures done that you remember?” Eve asked, taking one of her hands and examining it in a rather odd way.

“What? I don’t know - yeah, probably? Like, the whole time I worked for them? It’s been years, I’ve been to the doctor a lot. They’re pretty big on making sure their assassins are in good condition. I don’t remember any… procedures, though. Nothing like that. I’ve been hurt a few times, but nothing too crazy.” Villanelle frowned.

“When I was talking to Kenny, he mentioned that… maybe there’s a reason they keep finding us. He said maybe they chipped you.” Eve said. She was speaking softly, delicately, as if the prospect would freak Villanelle out.

She was entirely correct to assume as much. Villanelle’s face contorted into a grimace at the thought - she knew she had been a pawn to them, a tool to enact their plans, but a chip? To monitor her movements, to watch her every move… She was disgusted, dehumanized by the thought. Was she a dog to them? A puppet? Anger and sickness melded in her throat, bile rising from her stomach at the idea that she was responsible for all of the encounters they had been forced to escape, even if it wasn’t on purpose. The idea of her autonomy being violated in such a way — before her thoughts could plummet further, she felt Eve’s arms around her shoulders, lips on her unmarred cheek. She had seen the shift in expression and dove in to anchor her.

“He said if they had done it, it would be an RFID chip - like what they use in credit cards. That if you’re close enough to a card reader it could ping the Twelve… technology isn’t advanced enough for there to be a GPS tracker or anything - but it would explain why they got to us on the train and at the store…” Eve stroked the back of her neck, using her slight weight to hold Villanelle as tight as she needed to be held.

“Like a dog.” Villanelle had to fight down the sick feeling in her throat for Eve’s sake - she was still so delicate from the events of the day.

“We can get it out. He said it’s the size of a grain of rice and it’s usually implanted in a hand, or in the arm somewhere… If there’s something there, we can find it, okay? Then they’ll have a much harder time finding us.”

Villanelle nodded her head rapidly, sudden desperation slamming her like a bolt of lightning. If there was some foreign body in her, some tracker, it needed to be out and fast. She could barely quell her nausea as she opened the driver side door, tapping Eve’s hip to get her to slide out of the car, taking her hand to help her out of the tight quarters. When she was out, Villanelle pulled her legs out and leaned out, looking up at her. Something in her expression must have worried Eve, who leaned down to kiss her forehead, fingers gently smoothing her hair back.

“It’s okay… We’ll get it. It’s okay baby.” Eve said, bringing one hand down to one of hers. “It isn’t your fault.”

Villanelle closed her eyes, nodding again. She searched her mind for any time she might have accidentally allowed such a gross violation of her bodily autonomy. In the business she was in, there were no real contracts, no pensions or plans, but Villanelle had always been taken care of. Money, health care, housing; it was all paid for or provided by her employers. She never knew the details, but until now, the details had never been her concern. It only made sense that they would stick a tracker of some sort in her at the first opportunity, didn’t it? She was an asset. A valuable one, and one that tended to wander. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Even if she had just been using cash to pay for things and not the cards she was provided, Konstantin always found her. He always told her that she was being watched, and that they would almost always be able to find her if she tried to sneak off. She had assumed that meant that the Twelve’s vast network of resources included some sort of professional stalker (other than Konstantin, of course) to mind her. But a tracker… it was so obvious.

“Let me know if you feel anything shifting around, okay? Grain of rice…”

Eve used her fingers to press into every little bit of Villanelle’s hand. She squeezed each finger from tip to base, thorough and clinical in her examination. It almost hurt, the firmness in which she used to press between the webbing of her fingers, between her metacarpals, into her tendons. Villanelle didn’t care. She wanted it. She wanted Eve to be as thorough as possible, and she concentrated hard on every feeling, waiting for something out of the ordinary. Nothing on the right hand - but when Eve pressed between her thumb and index on the left hand, she felt _something_. Her eyes shot open to see Eve’s wide and staring down. She had felt it too.

“Oh god.” Eve whispered, seemingly shocked that she had actually found something.

“Oh god.” Villanelle echoed, mouth hanging open slightly. “Eve, how are we gonna get it out?”

“Oh my god I hadn’t thought that far - oh god I can’t believe there’s actually something in there! We have to - we have to cut it out - are you okay with that? Maybe we can just avoid anyplace with chip readers, and…” Eve panicked on her behalf, still holding the spot between her fingers.

“That’s impossible, Eve. We’d have to live in a forest!” Villanelle whined, shaking her head. “We have to cut it out. There’s gotta be something in here - oh my god, what a shit place to have something stuck, this is going to be awful!”

“There were scissors in the med kit, weren’t there?” Eve asked, looking horrified at the thought.

“ _Scissors_? Are there tweezers, too? Here, help me… see if we can move it out of that part… if I try to dig in there it’ll mess up my tendons, see if we can - fuck, how did I never notice this before?” Villanelle frowned, pressing her fingers beneath the spot where Eve’s were; she could feel the edge of it. Eve gave a little nod, pressing into the same spot. Her fingers, small and dexterous, and Villanelle’s, long and strong, should have been enough to move it… but it did not budge. Villanelle hoped it wasn’t lodged in the muscle.

“It isn’t moving.” Eve pointed out lamely, looking up at her.

“I’ll hold it. Get the scissors and the tweezers.” Villanelle mumbled, closing her eyes briefly.

“Are you sure? We can…” Eve said, and Villanelle yanked her hand away.

“Now, before I change my mind. I already shot myself today, I don’t want to stab myself too but I kinda have to, so can you _please_ not give me any more reason to hesitate?!” Villanelle snapped at her, pressing down on the spot.

Eve said nothing, scrambling into the car to retrieve what was needed. When she pulled out of the car, she was using alcohol wipes to sterilize the small, sharp scissors. She was thankful it wasn’t her dominant hand she had to mutilate, at least. Eve handed them to her, still wordless, holding the tweezers tight in her other hand. Villanelle took a deep breath and met her eyes.

“I need you to pinch the skin up so I can cut it… Can you use the tweezers to see if you can pull it out when I do?” She asked.

A mute nod as Eve replaced her fingers; one finger pressed up from the palm side to isolate the little chip, and two fingers pinched the skin above it. Villanelle took another deep breath as she positioned the scissors, hoping they were as sharp an edge as they seemed. She cut with as much strength as she could, ignoring the way her mind tried to wholeheartedly reject what she was doing, biting down on her cheek so hard that the skin in her mouth split between her teeth just as the skin on her hand parted. She kept silent - Eve, without prompting, moved forward with her task.

Villanelle’s entire body clenched at the pain - the split skin, the digging of the tweezers, and the hideous way it felt when the thing was pulled from inside her hand. Tight between the grips of the tweezers was a piece of silver something flecked with blood. Eve stared at it with horror until she once again looked at Villanelle’s hand and went very, very green.

“Oh my god.” Eve closed her mouth tight, jamming the tweezers and tracker into Villanelle’s other hand, and turning to be sick.

“Fucking son of a fucking bitch that hurt so fucking bad I hate those motherfuckers with my whole fucking chest!” Villanelle finally released her cheek to scream, gasping as she clenched the tweezers.

She sat back into the car, ignoring her bleeding in favor of staring at the offending device. She could hear Eve spitting off to the side, but remained focused on the tracker. How long had it been inside of her? How had she never noticed it? Such a tiny thing that had nearly killed them both more than once… It was not until Eve returned, sitting on her knees in front of her, that Villanelle allowed her attention to stray. She reached into the car to fetch the remainder of the med kit, pawing through it to find something to stop the bleeding. With both hands she held Villanelle’s tight.

“You’d think I’d be used to a little gore by now.” Eve mumbled.

“It’s okay… it makes me feel pretty sick too.” Villanelle admitted.

“At least it’s out, now.” Eve nodded, glancing at it.

“Yeah.” Villanelle nodded, desperate for a change. In subject, in scenery, in thought - so she changed it. “… What was the place you mentioned going to before, instead of Alaska? Just for now?”

“How do you feel about Iceland?”


	17. FRANCE; Le Havre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve arrive in Le Havre, and begin to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all.
> 
> I know I've been good about regular weekly updates up to this point, so I'm going to forewarn those of you that may look forward to updates here; I'm not going to be updating next week. The next update will be on October 2nd. This is both because I'm a bit burnt out and because life has been keeping me from being able to write as much as I'd like. I'm sorry if this is disappointing to anybody, but I'll be back on the second. I may post something else aside from this, but I need some time to give these last three chapters the attention they deserve. Thanks for understanding!

“Iceland, huh?” Villanelle considered it as they drove towards Le Havre, “I do speak a bit of Icelandic, you know.”

“Yeah? Is that one of the seven you speak?” Eve smiled, though her eyes were scanning the road behind them and at their side so intently it was a wonder she had even heard. With visions of trackers and bugs in Villanelle’s head, she was grateful to have her looking out, paranoid that the car might have one on it. They had checked under and inside every bit of the car to make sure before leaving, with Eve going so far as to jam her body as far under it as she could to check the more unlikely spots.

“No - it’s one I’m still learning.”

She couldn’t stop thinking about the chip in her hand. She felt violated on a molecular level. When had they done it? When she had first begun her training and they had given her shots and supplements? She had been so scrawny and unhealthy when they pulled her from the jail that she just accepted whatever she was given. Had it been when she had gotten hurt any number of times and was told to report to a specific doctor for treatment? She couldn’t remember it happening. Nothing with her hand had ever been done, to her knowledge, which made the possible reality all the more horrifying. That she wasn’t aware when it was happening. That she was impaired in some way, asleep or unconscious. Had Konstantin planted it in her hand? Or Dasha? They were the only two that ever really got so close.

“It’s really pretty there. I’ve always wanted to go… and it’s big and relatively empty. We could spend some time there regrouping and figuring out how to get to Alaska.” Eve suggested.

“What if we end up liking it there?” Villanelle asked. She didn’t care where they ended up, secretly; as long as they were together, they could live anywhere. She kept that to herself, though, the sound of Eve’s voice distracting her from troublesome thoughts.

“Then we stay there. We make some kind of life for ourselves there.”

“What will we do for money?”

“There’s plenty of things we could do… You could do translation stuff online, maybe. We could start some stupid lifestyle blog. I could write. You could - I don’t know, teach self defense, maybe?” Eve’s expression held the faintest wisp of amusement, “Right now all I want to do is lay down and sleep for three weeks.”

“Oh, that’s right - you didn’t sleep at all, did you?” Villanelle glanced over bringing a hand up to tuck her messy hair back.

“Not really, no…” Her expression shifted; amusement to guilt. Villanelle reached across the console to take her hand.

“Stop with that look. It’s okay, Eve. We’re okay.” Her voice was soft, subdued. Though at that point in time they were decidedly _not_ okay, Eve’s abandonment still fresh in their memories, they would be. Villanelle had forgiven her, and they were working it out. There was something a little satisfying about Eve’s feeling so rotten over it, but there was nothing beneficial to the feeling - Villanelle was just petty sometimes. Particularly when it came to her heart, which she normally guarded so fiercely that getting to it was a herculean task.

“I don’t think we are, yet, but I appreciate you saying so.” Eve mumbled, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

“… Yeah. We will be, though. I think we just need to get away, yeah?” Villanelle admitted, sighing softly. “How are we going to get to Iceland?”

“I’m not sure. By boat? Are there boats that go there? We’re going to the port, maybe we could ask around.”

“After we stop at a store to get some clothes. We ruined ours again.” Villanelle grumbled it, annoyed at the state of them. Her clothing was spattered with blood and stank of smoke. Eve’s was torn to bits again. She felt filthy and heavy again and it was barely past noon. “We gotta stop destroying our stuff, Eve.”

Eve gave a little snort, shaking her head. “What, you mean this isn’t a good look for me? I thought distressed clothing was a thing people were into now.”

“There’s a big difference between distressed and ruined, Eve. That difference for you is apparently a rose bush.” Villanelle smirked; on the horizon, she could see Le Havre. They still weren’t being followed, but her nerves still thrummed.

“Maybe I could make it a trend. Stolen, mismatched clothing, hand-torn via fence and thorn, treated by hairspray smoke…” Eve mused, paying no mind to the port in front of them, still glancing from side to back, fixating on every car that came near.

“Sexy.” Villanelle purred, squeezing her hand before letting go. “So, I think the first thing to do is to go and get my money… Here, take what I have left from earlier and put it with whatever you have left. I think some fell out when they took me, I don’t know how much is there.”

She jammed a hand into her bra to fish out the notes she still had there, along with the passport that had managed to wedge itself uncomfortably below one of her breasts. She dropped the cash on to Eve’s lap, and the ID atop it as Eve pulled out what she had. She remained silent as Eve counted, finding a secluded looking side road to drive down so they could get their bearings. When she turned the car off, she sighed deeply, letting her head drop back. She was deeply exhausted from the stress and emotion of the day, and the idea of doing anything other than pulling Eve into the back seat and falling asleep on top of her was deeply upsetting.

“Six thousand three hundred. I’m sort of proud we didn’t lose more.” Eve’s voice was subdued as she folded the notes and looked to her.

“Me too. Surprised they didn’t search us, too.” Villanelle smiled, turning her head to watch her face.

Eve’s eyes were so distant that she felt her heart break just a little. Yesterday things had seemed so wonderful. What a difference a day could make - though it wasn’t about the change of day, was it? It was about all the hurt that Eve had been storing up breaking free when the dam finally broke. Villanelle tried to focus on the fact that they had gotten through it. It would have happened sooner or later, and sooner was most assuredly the better option. If they got to their destination, be it Alaska or Iceland, and Eve had left her there, the pain might have been too much for Villanelle to bear - and definitely impossible to forgive. This way, at least, it was manageable, excusable. Konstantin and Dasha had told Villanelle stories about trainees that had not been able to handle the pressure of their work but had tried to soldier through. They had told her how they eventually snapped in half beneath the weight of their deeds.

She would not let Eve break. She would find some way to splint her until she was strong enough to stand on her own.

“Oh, crap!” Eve muttered abruptly, patting down her body and then pawing around the console and glove box.

“What? What’s wrong?” Villanelle was jerked out of her thoughts by the exclamation.

“I haven’t called Kenny back yet! I promised I would after I was safe with you, he’s probably freaking out right now…”

Villanelle huffed in toothless irritation. She had been worried something _else_ was going wrong, somehow. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back again, watching Eve smack her hands about the front seat in search of the phone she had evidently stolen from that doubtlessly traumatized cashier back at the store. Villanelle absently wondered how many traumatized people they would leave in their wake before they got to safety. She got the idea to check between the seat and the console, and grinned as she carefully pulled the phone free from where it was stuck.

“You never met Kenny, right?” Eve asked, opening the phone app.

“I didn’t know Carolyn had kids. It’s a crazy thought, to me. She must be a weird mom to have.”

“He’s not a thing like her. Okay, just a sec…” Eve brought the phone to her ear, and Villanelle fell quiet, opting to let her eyes wander while she eavesdropped.

“Hi - yeah, I know. No, it went better than I expected and it doesn’t look like we’re being followed, we got away a couple of hours ago and we’re right outside of Le Havre now. I know, I know, I’m sorry. I had to talk to V and it slipped my mind, I’m an asshole. Yeah, we’re still in the car, we just parked so we can figure out where to go from here… No, I have no idea. We talked about it and - I think maybe Iceland is a good idea. We’re both exhausted and I think it’d help to have somewhere to hide away while we rest and heal up. Oh? Um, just a second. Villanelle, do you mind if I put him on speaker?” Eve looked to her.

“Why? Does he have to talk to me? You’re doing fine on your own.” Villanelle raised a brow, still trying to process the idea of Carolyn having a child. Especially one called Kenny. Tall, humorless Carolyn not only bearing a child, but giving it _that_ name?

“He’d like to talk to both of us.” Eve said, pressing the button to put him on speaker phone before either could protest.

“Eve, I never said I wanted to - bloody hell. I can hear the echo, you did it anyways didn’t you? Hello?”

“Hi. Is your name short for Kenneth, or is it just Kenny?” Villanelle asked, head tilted.

“It’s short for Kenneth?” Kenny sounded thrown off by the question.

“You sound very confused. What’s it like having Carolyn as a mother? Part of me thinks she would have an authoritarian parenting style, but the other part thinks maybe she was permissive.” Villanelle was terribly curious, drawing terms from the memory of a childhood psychology book she had once read in preparation for a kill. Carolyn either had to be a control freak or view her child as her best friend, she couldn’t fathom an in between.

“… what?”

“Oh my god, ignore her. Villanelle, stop asking personal questions, he had something to tell us.” Eve rolled her eyes, which only served to amuse her.

“Do you already know the answer? You have to be curious too, Eve. That lady is a bear.” Villanelle grinned, happy for the change in mood, the distraction of a new voice.

“I’m sure she’s an - a… damnit. Kenny, what’s she like as a mom? Now I have to know.” Eve sank down in her seat a little, overwhelmed by curiosity.

“She’s not a bad mum - she’s really nice to me, you know. Usually. Sometimes she can be firm but usually she’s pretty good… she _does_ treat my sister way differently, but they’ve always been like, opposite people. Personality wise they’re oil and water.” Kenny explained after a resigned sigh.

“Sister? You have a sister?” Eve’s brows raised.

“Yeah, Geraldine. Bit of a new age sort… Can we get back to what I was trying to tell you before, please? It’s important!” Kenny said, a bit shrill in his demand that they focus. It only made Villanelle want to tease him more.

“Okay, okay. I’m not dropping this because I need to hear about this sister you have, but… go ahead. Sorry.” Eve grinned, putting a finger to her lips and looking to Villanelle, whose mouth had opened to ask why Carolyn had given them such horribly white-bread names. She closed it, though, smirking.

“It’s alright, yeah… so - Iceland. I’ve spent the morning waiting looking through some stuff and… have you got a passport, Villanelle?” Kenny asked. “Man, it’s a bit weird talking to you.”

“It’s weird that you’re Carolyn’s kid. I do. An old one, but it’ll work still. I was planning to bring Eve to a friend to get one made for her today… it won’t be enough to pass through airport security, but it should work as ID.” Villanelle told him. She hoped her associate was still in Le Havre kicking around. He was a real scumbag, but a surprisingly reliable one who wouldn’t rat her out to her former employers. Mainly because he was often too high to recall the details of his customers other than their sex and whether or not they paid. Sort of a self imposed failsafe for client confidentiality.

“Oh, really? Wicked, that’s perfect… because I think I found a way to get you two to Iceland. I’ll just need you two to coordinate with me if you decide to go with it.”

“Really? What do you need from us? What is it? Do you know someone that can get us there?” Eve sat up straighter, excited at the idea of solid plan.

“Are you two set on the idea of Iceland? Just making sure first.” Kenny asked.

“As long as we get somewhere we can rest, I don’t care where it is.” Villanelle frowned at the phone as if it were Kenny.

“Alright - alright. Um - this is going to sound a bit outlandish maybe, given what you two are running from but… I found a boat that’ll end up in Iceland.” Kenny sounded a little nervous; clearly, there was more to it.

“Kenny, that’s amazing!” Eve was ready to accept whatever wisp of hope came their way - Villanelle was not so quick to go along.

“What’s the catch? What’s so ‘outlandish’ about a boat? Is it a fishing boat or something?”

“It’s… a cruise boat. It leaves tomorrow morning and they have some rooms left. It’s a bit pricey but-” Kenny began, hesitant, trailing off when Villanelle barked a laugh.

“A cruise? A _cruise_ boat, Kenny? Oh my god, how would we be able to sneak around on a cruise boat!?” Her brows raised in amusement.

There was no way. There was absolutely no way they would be safe on a cruise. There would be hundreds of people on a cruise boat, hundreds of variables, dozens and dozens of staff members who could be working for the Twelve. It was too risky, and then there were the stops that cruises made. A trip to Iceland would likely have more than a few, in multiple countries if it was leaving from Le Havre. She had been joking about it possibly being a fishing boat, but that would surely be less risky than a _cruise_. Hell, she would settle for making a deal with a pilot hanging around in one of the airport hangers.

“We got the tracker out of you, V. As long as they aren’t tracking your aliases, what’s the harm? It would give us a chance to make a real plan about living together, about our future… it’s basically a hotel room on water. Nobody will bother us if we just stay in our room… it’s no more risky than anything we’ve done so far.” Eve shifted to her side a little more to look to her, enthralled with the prospect of a cruise. Her eyes were big and pleading, though they still held a great deal of sadness from the weight of the day.

“You found a tracker? Hell, that explains how they found you then! That’s so creepy, god… Well, it’s good it’s out of you. And it’s up to you two - I reckon you’ll find your way to Iceland somehow, but when I saw this I had to at least suggest it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, you know… like Eve said, you can just stay in your room. It’s a bit of a lengthy trip but I think it’s safer than the other options - like a fishing boat. From where you are it’s the most direct route, too… otherwise you’d have to get to Denmark and get on a ferry, which’ll be just as crowded. And doesn’t leave for another week.” Kenny reasoned, as if he was trying to convince them. Alarm bells rang in Villanelle's head.

“Why do you want us to be on this cruise so badly? I know Eve trusts you, but I don’t even know you. And you’re Carolyn’s kid. I have no reason to trust you.” Villanelle snapped, brows furrowing. There was a moment of silence before the barrage that came from Kenny’s end.

“I know you don’t. I know you don’t have any reason to, either, but I honestly don’t care, yeah? The only reason I’m helping you is because Eve loves you, for some bloody reason, and I care about her. I don’t trust you a bit either, but she does. I owe it to her to make up for my mum setting her up to fail, because I was too intimidated to stand up for her. D’you think I want my friend running off with the person who murdered our friend? D’you think I want to worry that you’re gonna flip on her and she’ll end up dead because you got bored or something? Because I really don’t. I want her to come home and I’m fighting every bloody instinct I have by helping her leave with you.”

Villanelle blinked, letting the man on the other end get it all out. She could hear shades of his mother in his voice, but it was so distinctly difference. Even over the phone she could hear his fear masquerading as a bravery that showed in the way he tried to dress her down. He feared her, but loved Eve. He was only trusting _her_ for Eve’s benefit, just as Villanelle questioned him for Eve’s safety. She glanced to Eve, who stared at the phone, wide eyed - she hadn’t been expecting such sharp words, that much was clear. Villanelle got the impression that Kenny was usually much more gentle. Kenny must have been dragged into his line of work by merit of being his mother’s child, not out of any desire to follow in her footsteps. Either that or he was an excellent liar.

Either way, he had answered when Eve had called. She assumed that he was the reason Eve had found her. Judging by the panicked warbling on the other end when Eve called back, he must have been legitimately worried for her safety when he didn’t hear from her. Villanelle didn’t understand her need to have a link to the life she was leaving behind, but did she really need to? Would he really set them up to be murdered on a cruise ship? His reactions, his stumbling over his words, and the abject confusion in which he answered her weird questions didn’t give the impression of someone who was secretly malicious.

“Um, Eve, is she still there? Did I —” Kenny mumbled worriedly as Villanelle thought it over.

“I’m still here. You’re like a puppy, aren’t you? You’re very loyal, I can tell.” Villanelle smirked.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me, but we both love Eve and want her safe. I think I can respect you for that. For right now, I still have to think about this cruise thing. We have to go into the port and do some shopping, and I’ll think while I shop. This phone needs to be charged, anyways. Talk to you later, Kenny.” Villanelle smiled, reaching over to end the call before Eve could stop her.

“Why would you hang up on him? He’s just trying to help, V.” Eve glared heavily at her, snatching the phone away and going to text an apology to him.

“Because we have a lot of things to get done in a short time, Eve. It’s very cute how protective he is over you. I decided I like him, now.” Villanelle grinned, turning the keys in the ignition.

“Well… good, I guess. Just - be less rude. He’s my only friend now.” Eve conceded, pushing her hair back.

“That was me being less rude. Let’s go get some clothes, huh? Shopping here isn’t going to be as great as it would be in Paris, but we have to take what we can get.” Villanelle redirected, pulling out of the spot. Eve sank down in her seat, deflated.

“You realize people might take one look at the state of us and want to call the cops, right?”

“If you have enough money to flash around people don’t really care. And we have money, so don’t worry about what other people are thinking. Unless you want to steal from a laundromat again? Get us some strangers leggings and underwear?” Villanelle smirked, scanning up and down the street for any sort of clothing shop.

“Clothes shopping it is.” Eve conceded.


	18. FRANCE: Le Havre (Shopping District)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V and E run errands in Le Havre, and make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience with me, everyone. I'm going to try not to delay the last two chapters any, but I'll keep you all informed! I appreciate every last one of you and hope you're enjoying this wind down.

Villanelle knocked on the door. And then knocked again. Then again, but harder. She glowered at the door and pounded with her fist, yelling impatiently in French for the man who lived there to answer. Unless the cobbler had suddenly decided to go straight in the time since she last saw him, she couldn’t imagine him being anywhere but in the shitty loft above the shop. She kept an arm looped around Eve’s back as she knocked, taking some small comfort in the feeling of her body next to hers. Eve needed the support, anyway, her injuries beginning to catch up to her; she was now walking with a distinct limp. Between the foot that she used to bust open the door, the wound on her other leg, the recently relocated shoulder, and the scrapes that riddled her, it was getting difficult for her to continue with such breakneck speed.

The need to stop was becoming more ever-present as the day went by. The first thing they did upon arrival in the port town was to spend some time gathering clothing from different stores (mainly because the selection in each was lackluster as a whole). It had taken five stores before Villanelle was content with their wardrobe, which was packed tightly into a suitcase she had picked up from a tourist heavy shop on the pier. A trip to a drug store got them other supplies, and they used the bathroom to change and clean up, Villanelle tending to Eve’s scrapes and Eve gently washing the new stitching on her cheek. Though Eve had stayed with her every step of the way, her lagging was involuntary and became more and more pronounced with every new store. She didn’t make her try anything on, having memorized her size, and stopped midway to get them food only to return to the car and find Eve sound asleep. She didn’t have the heart to wake her; the weight of the day had finally dragged her down to a place where her exhaustion had overridden her anxiety. Eve slept for a little over an hour before a passing car’s horn woke her. Villanelle practically fed her the at that point cold chicken sandwich. Eve ate mechanically, managing little smiles when Villanelle insisted on catching her eye.

Villanelle could continue on indefinitely, used to perpetual movement, but she could not ask that of Eve. Though her spirit was strong and willing, her body couldn’t handle too much more without time to heal. It was that and that alone that had really made Villanelle really rethink her reservations about going on the cruise that Kenny had proposed. He had sent over details for it shortly after Villanelle hung up on him. It was a luxury liner that would stop in five ports on the way to Iceland; twice in England, once in Scotland, once in Ireland, then a stop at the Faroe Islands. It would cut into their cash significantly, but once Villanelle located her Le Havre cache it wouldn’t be a problem. Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually humoring the idea and the sheer audacity of it, but another part was acutely aware of how dangerous it was for Eve to continue on while injured the way she was. With all of the fresh traumas, both mental and physical, a chance to settle down and process was all but necessary.

Villanelle’s mind was in a hundred different places, pulled to and fro by the events of the day and the possibilities the next one offered. Her cheek ached every time she tried to smile, but it had become clear to her that every time Eve tried to make her had a cumulative effect against the distrust and anger that had been sprung on her in the morning. Eve’s efforts, her gentle touches, her soft, apologetic demeanor, her willingness to talk and take responsibility for the hurt she had caused… it was shrinking the wildly negative feelings down to something far more manageable than the boulder that had initially dropped on to her heart. She hoped, as the days went by, that it would shrink down further and further, becoming a pebble at the bottom of an ocean of better feelings.

Until then, there was work to be done.

“Cooper! Open up, you junkie!” Villanelle called, frowning.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Eve leaned against her, no doubt hoping to soothe her irritation.

“About a year ago, but I know he’s lived here for like ten years. He’s here.”

“Maybe he went out for a coffee?” Eve offered.

“Trust me, he doesn’t leave the house unless he’s forced to. It’s crazy the cops haven’t caught him yet…”

“If it’s been a year, maybe —” Eve began to reason, but was swiftly cut off by a shout.

“Who! Is knocking! So _much_! So _early_!” The voice was shrill and came from above - Villanelle grinned.

“It’s four in the afternoon, you shithead!” She yelled back.

The sound of a window being flung open made her step back, taking Eve with her to look. There leaned her old acquaintance, Cooper the Cobbler, half hanging out of the window, his luxuriously long and surprisingly well kept hair dropping down well past the windowsill, a strung out Rapunzel. He wore, aside from a pair of black boxer briefs, nothing other than what appeared to be a very lovely silk robe that barely fit his skinny form, a hot purple in color and emblazoned with similarly garishly colored flowers. The man himself was something of an enigma; he had told her at least seven different origin stories for himself (something she had asked for a total of zero times), and seemed to operate in broad daylight without much notice from the police and spent so much time high on one thing or another that it would be remarkably easy to catch him in any number of acts. His age was unclear; his hair was black and his hairline intact, but crows feet stretched heavy from the corners of his eyes. She knew he spoke just as many languages as she did, if not more, and his intelligence was only matched by his voracious love of psychedelics.

“Oh! Is that her? Is that my Julia? Or today is it Silvia?” He cried, clinging to the windowsill and hanging out a little further.

“Julia? Silvia?” Eve mumbled, her eyes wide at the sight. “Where the hell did you find this guy? Oh my god, why is he hanging out of the window like that, he’s making me nervous.”

“I’ve given him a lot of names. Surprised he remembered those.” Villanelle mumbled an explanation, sighing as she looked up at the man. “Cooper, get down here and unlock the door! I don’t have the patience for this.”

“Te ves fea cuando frunces el ceño, Julia! Unlock it yourself!” He sneered, throwing down a set of keys that she hadn’t realized he was holding.

“It’s… safe to be around him right? Was that Spanish? What did he even say? I thought he was French.” Eve mumbled, surprisingly nervous for a woman who had done her best to burn down a building earlier that day.

“He said I’m ugly when I frown. Trust me, he’s safe. Safer than most people, I’d say, just a drug addict. Easy enough to figure out.” Villanelle chuckled, ducking down to snatch up the keys. “He speaks a lot of languages. I have no idea if he’s actually French or if he just lives here. I don’t really know much about him, but I don’t care.”

“Ah, okay. Just a standard unstable, unknowable drug addict. Got it.” Eve muttered.

“Are you being judgmental, Eve? That’s not nice. Cooper’s a scumbag but he’s a helpful one!” Villanelle chided, grinning crookedly as she unlocked the door. Grinning fully was just asking to strain her stitches.

“You scold me for being judgmental then call him a scumbag? I’ll never understand you.” Eve snorted, holding on to her still. The way she clung was reassuring, rebuilding her shaken confidence.

“You understand me better than anybody, Eve.” Villanelle leaned down to kiss her forehead. Though this was not their first stop in Le Havre, and they had time to clean up, her skin still tasted like sweat and fire - the efforts of her rescue mission. Villanelle decided that though the taste was salty and far too bitter, she liked it. It made it easier to appreciate her sweetness when it hit her tongue.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to you being so sentimental.” Eve said, though the smile on her lips said that she didn’t mind a bit.

“I’ll make sure to be mean and annoying sometimes too. Just to keep things interesting. Or maybe I’ll just bring home stray animals or something. Who knows!” Villanelle smirked, removing her arm from around her and taking her hand to lead her up the stairs. She pocketed the keys as she ascended.

“Oh god, please don’t. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to having a chicken again…” Eve remarked. Villanelle wondered if she missed the chicken more than she missed Niko. She certainly hoped so. Villanelle would have someone build them a coop and stuff it full of the things if it would make Eve happy.

“You can have a chicken.” She said, opening the door at the top of the stairs.

When it opened, she found herself enveloped in the spindly, long arms of the forger, head crammed against his chest. He smelled of lavender and unchecked body odor. Villanelle had forgotten how tall he was, easily over six foot three. The urge to chuck him down the stairs at the unwanted touch was strong and stuck in her throat. Like his smell. She was suddenly remembering one of the reasons she avoided visiting him if she could. He was a _hugger_. When he reached out to touch Eve’s hair upon noticing it, however, her hand shot out to intervene, yanking it back and glowering up at him with her face still crushed to his chest. She was just thankful it wasn’t the side with the gash.

“Mine. No touching.” Villanelle chided. Eve’s expression softened at her possessive words, perhaps happy that Villanelle still wanted to possess her. She slid out from his grasp to take hold of her again, arm slipping back into place.

“It’s rude not to share, you know. You didn’t even bring me a gift!” Cooper scoffed, pulling away and leading them further into the house. The place was immaculate in comparison to the last time she had seen it, the furniture updated and modern; the last time she had come to the place the entire front room had been nothing but pillows everywhere.

“I’m bringing you business. She needs a passport quickly… we have the money for it.” Villanelle chuckled, keeping Eve close.

“Business is fine, but there’s no _heart_ to it! Next time bring me a plant and I’ll charge you a hundred less. But only if you chose the plant with your heart. Believe me, I’ll know.” Cooper had a lilting, sing-songy tone as he flitted through the place, leading them back towards a small room that was kept behind lock and key.

“Sounds good to me.” Villanelle remarked, hoping this was the last time she would ever see him.

“Beautiful. Oh, Julia! What did you do to yourself? Do you need a new ID as well?” He turned on his heel, opening the door at the same time to look at her, bringing a hand up - she made a face and pushed her head back to avoid his touch.

“I got into a scuffle with a bear. You should see it. Did awful things to it. I have one of your old IDs, it’s still working for me.” Villanelle half-smirked.

“With you? It’s not the strangest story.” Cooper laughed.

“Don’t act like you remember me so well. The last time I saw you, you were so stoned I had to talk you through a panic attack because a bird landed on the windowsill and, according to you, was very suspicious.” Villanelle reminded him; the general chaos in which Cooper seemed to live never really put her off, but she avoided spending too long in his orbit as a rule, if only to keep the image of herself out of his memory. He was a loose end made useful by his shoddy memory and utility, and she did hold some fondness for him; she wouldn’t want to have to kill him and find a new ID man.

“I’m sure it was a reasonable fear. The birds around here are very…” He flitted a hand in the air, twirling it dramatically. “Paranoid-making. Come here, pretty girl. Shall I name you for this picture?”

“Name me?” Eve asked, hesitant.

“He means give your new passport a name of his choosing. He likes to name people. I think maybe he’s sad that he’s an old man with no family.” Villanelle clarified; he asked every client. She always let him, finding his names to be oddly suitable.

“Should I…” Eve looked to Villanelle, very much out of her element.

“Unless you want to name yourself for this. It’s only a temporary name, so don’t spend too long worrying over it.” She reassured, walking with her to the blank, clean wall and helping her rest against it.

“What would you name me?” Eve asked, looking to Cooper, who lit up at the question.

“Oh, easy. Lilian. You have the face of a Lilian. What’s your name, Julia? Surname?” Cooper said as he set up his table.

“This one… Morel.” She said, tossing the passport to him.

“Lilian and Julia Morel. Good? You married a year ago… It was an autumn wedding.” Cooper said, sing-songing his way through the process of set up. “You never honeymooned until now because you both were so busy with your work that you couldn’t imagine ever doing it. But once a year is over in the marriage and you’re stronger than ever, you think, why not now? We love each other. And we deserve a break. We love our work, but we should make time to love each other as much as we can…”

Eve’s brows were raised as Cooper went off into a long tangent, constructing them a surprisingly coherent life as he set up his equipment. Villanelle smirked, looking her face over to make sure she was camera ready; or at least as camera ready as one could be when getting a passport photo taken. Her injuries were mostly hidden under new clothing; long loose slacks, an equally loose oversized sweater, and a pair of slip on shoes with insoles. Her face was clean, though tired, and her hair was messy but in the loveliest way.

“You put it off, the planning, put it off and off and off, and then one day you are in an accident that scars poor Julia’s beautiful face and suddenly you are face to face with your own mortality… None of your injuries are very serious, but the injury shakes you, and you tell your jobs to fuck off! Because you’re in love and there’s no time like the present.” Cooper continued to speak, nestling the camera into the tripod. It was old and expensive looking, and he handled it in a way that would make any vintage camera enthusiast cringe. Villanelle barely paid him any mind, focusing on clearing Eve’s face of any trace of imperfection. She looked exhausted, closing her eyes and leaning heavily against the wall, but there was the hint of a smile in the tiny movements of her facial muscles.

“Perfect.” Villanelle mumbled, gently tucking back a curl, hands lingering on her cheeks.

“Hardly.” Eve brought her hands to rest over hers, thumbs stroking the backs.

“No, not perfect for everyone. For me. No one else.” Villanelle told her.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.” Villanelle chewed her lip for a fleeting moment, regarding her as Cooper rambled out a story in the background (saying something poetic about love in the face of death, no doubt). Licking her lips, she leaned in a little to give her a little kiss, more to get her attention than anything else. Eve’s eyes opened, her smile becoming more pronounced.

“Something on your mind?”

“Do you want to do this cruise thing? Really? And you trust him that he isn’t leading us into some trap?” Villanelle asked.

Though she had been the one hurt by Eve, she found herself still needing to console her, to submit to her wants in order to bring her peace. All she wanted was Eve’s happiness, and by proxy, her own. If they were to continue running the way they were, to travel to Denmark by land and try to find passage by boat there, who was to say they wouldn’t be found again? The tracker was out of her hand, but the Twelve had enough men on the ground that they could be spotted at any point if they were to remain in, or travel through France. Their injuries would stand out in a crowd. If they were to get on to the cruise ship and it didn’t turn out to be some sick trap by Kenny, it could be quite literally smooth sailing. They wouldn’t disembark until Iceland. They would stay in their room, where Villanelle could control who had access to them. An inside cabin with no windows and one door - just her and Eve. The way it should be.

“I trust him. He helped me find you, V.” Eve let her hands drop, but not to her sides; she wrapped them around Villanelle’s waist, pulling her in closer. Villanelle let her, pressing her body against hers, against the wall. She dropped her own hands down to hold her shoulders, resting against her. She sighed heavily, content with the feeling of Eve’s body relaxing despite the odd position. She was comforted by Villanelle’s weight; surrounded by her, protected.

“Then let’s do it. We can go on this stupid cruise, okay? But… only because I can’t drag you all over anymore. You need to rest, and heal. If I’m going to spend my life with you I want you in the best shape you can be in, okay? So no acting up while we’re on it. I know how much of a pervert you are, so you’ll have to _try_ to keep your hands to yourself until you’re at least a little healed, yeah? I know it’ll be difficult for you.” Villanelle teased, grinning and waiting for - there it was. Eve reached down to give her ass an irritated but amused smack.

“You’re the pervert here.” Eve protested, looking up with a soft smile, “… Are you sure? I don’t want you to do it just because you think I can’t handle what we’re doing. I’m not leaving you again. Whatever you decide, I’ll do it.”

“You told me already, and I believed you… I’m not agreeing because of that. I’m agreeing because you’re hurt, and I’m hurt, and if we keep trying to pick through Europe they’re bound to catch up with us. This way, at least… we’ll have time. And I can control who comes around us.” Villanelle leaned back, looking to her. Eve smiled, nodding, pulling her arms away to let Villanelle move back.

“… cruises are really fun, you know. This one has a casino on board.” Eve pointed out, smirking slightly.

“We’re not doing anything at a casino. We’re staying in our room.” Villanelle’s expression went as stoic as she could make it.

“Julia! Get away, it’s time for her picture,” Cooper yelled, stomping over to her to take her arm, dragging her away, “Go, go. And let her go to the casino! Go with her! Drink, fuck, be happy!”

“See? Cooper agrees. It should be fun! I think we’ve earned some fun, right?”

“Face me, darling Lilian.” Cooper, now focused on his word, clicked his tongue at Eve like she were an animal. Insulting, but effective.

“I don’t trust it. What if someone tries to stab me while I’m focused on poker?” Villanelle protested.

“Nobody is going to stab you while you’re focused on poker, V. Don’t be dramatic!” Eve stilled after she said it, focusing on the camera for Cooper.

“Dramatic? Do I have to remind you of everything that’s happened, Eve? We earned some fun, but I’ve also _definitely_ earned the right to be dramatic because our lives are crazy right now.” Villanelle laughed.

“Are you going to keep me entertained in our room, at least?” Eve quirked a brow slightly, still focusing on her picture.

“… yes. I will keep you very entertained in our room. Doesn’t this place have a spa, too? I think I’d be willing to go there. There and our bedroom and bathroom. Nowhere else. I’ll keep you nice and tired and not wanting to do anything but let me spend hours with my —”

“I get it! Okay! No casino. Maybe spa.” A little color rose to Eve’s cheeks at Villanelle’s blatant words. Villanelle licked her lips a little, allowing her mind to wander just for the moment. An eight day trip doing nothing but fucking, eating, and generally basking in the company of the woman she had fallen so wildly in love with _did_ sound amazing. She had her doubts about it, but caution had done them no real favors thus far. And Eve was right; hadn’t they earned it? Hadn’t they spent enough time suffering, and feeling like the walls were closing in on them? They had clawed and scraped their way there, with a few reprieves in between; couldn’t they be allowed to rest? And if something was waiting for them when they arrived in Iceland, they could at least face it with renewed bodies and bolstered spirits.

“Okay… It will take me about an hour to get this all sorted out for you, Lilian, and until then the two of you enjoy Casa de Cooper; have a drink, a smoke, some food. Make yourselves comfortable.” Cooper clapped his hands, and Villanelle jumped a bit, looking between them.

“That’s all we have to do? I don’t have to give you any information, or…” Eve asked, confused by the process. Villanelle went to her, taking her hand.

“I already know your life story, Lilian. Let me work!” Cooper grinned wide as Villanelle led her away.

“He’s got it under control. Come on, let’s call Kenny and tell him to book it. Cooper - what’s her birthday?” Villanelle glanced back.

“… June 16th, 1972.” Cooper pulled the date instantly; he was a living database for significant dates, often using them as birthdays for his clients. Villanelle smiled, but did not ask the meaning behind it this time.

When they went to the living area to sit and wait, Eve pulled out the phone and looked to Villanelle. “You’re sure, right?”

“I’m sure. It’s our honeymoon, after all, right?”

Eve only grinned as she lifted the phone to her ear.


	19. The English Channel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve arrive on the ship and settle in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. One chapter left until the end. It's insane to think about since I've been literally writing this since May!
> 
> The finale is going to be delayed; not because of lack of love or anything, but because I want to devote more time to it to make it lengthier and more conclusive. I hope it'll be a satisfactory conclusion to this, even if it's more of a gentle one.
> 
> The finale will be posted at some point within the next two to three weeks; I hope you all understand. I want to round this out in the way it deserves (and probably spend a lot of time on cruise fluff tbh)
> 
> Thank you!

“And would you like this all to go on your on-board account, Miss Morel, or will you be splitting it between the two?” The woman behind the counter asked, her accent Middle-Eastern and her smile bright and cheerful.

“Missus. This is my wife. We’re on our honeymoon!” Villanelle corrected, accent French and drenched in irritating joy as she leaned over to wrap an arm around Eve’s shoulder, pulling her to her side. Eve made a clear effort not to roll her eyes, smirking at her insistence and leaning into Villanelle’s side. Villanelle had been milking it all morning, playing the part of the thrilled newlywed who had finally locked down the gorgeous cougar she had been after for an indeterminate amount of time. Eve played the part of the grudgingly accepting new wife so well that it almost seemed like she had been practicing; and maybe they had, those past few days. Between trains, trepidation, and trauma had laid little moments that had built a convincing case towards them working as a pair.

“That isn’t what she asked, Julia. Sorry about her, she’s excitable. If we put it all on her account can she pay for both of us when we do things around the ship?” Eve asked, rolling her eyes but smiling fondly. She didn’t bother with an accent, sticking to confoundingly American. The attendant was undaunted by Villanelle’s enthusiasm, her smile almost as fond as Eve’s.

“Well, on behalf of Crystal Cruises, let me extend our congratulations on your marriage! And to answer your question, Mrs. Morel; yes, we can accommodate that.” The attendant informed them.

“Excellent. It can all go on her account, then.” Eve said, gathering the notes that Villanelle had haphazardly slapped on the desk and offering them to the attendant, who took them and began to count.

“One thousand two hundred - is that correct?” She asked.

“I plan on ordering a lot of champagne.” Villanelle grinned.

“Wonderful! I’ll have a bottle sent to your room - on us, in celebration of your union. I’ll put this on your card… And please sign here - and here’s your card. Enjoy your stay!” The attendant told them. Villanelle grinned wider as she signed the slip and looked to Eve, wiggling her brows at her.

Villanelle’s play-acting had a real effect on her mood, and she was bubbly and cheerful. Now on board the ship, she felt much safer than she had anticipated; even with the throngs of people bustling around them, she wasn’t so nervous anymore. It was a closed system, unlike the train station, and lacked the unpredictability of the streets of Rome or Paris, as Eve had pointed out the day before. At the time of that conversation, Villanelle was counting out paces in the cemetery woods, seeking out her buried cache. At fifteen paces in, she had glanced back to her, brows furrowed. She continued her count. Twenty-four short paces from the gnarled oak tree - she was 24 when she made the kills that landed her the money in the cache. The Ambassador had reached out to ‘help’ her when she tripped close to a flight of stairs; flinging him down them was easy enough and looked unintentional to those who passed by. The diplomat with an allergy to shellfish was a no brainer. They had amounted to easy bonus money and two of her most boring kills. They were uninspired, but the money was enough of a nestegg to start she and Eve on the right path towards real independence. She estimated they could survive a year on the money, if they were careful.

“Do you really think it’ll be that simple, though? That they won’t figure out that’s where we’re going to be? In the big obvious boat with a billion people on it? If they check the manifest…” Villanelle began, needing just a bit more convincing. She stopped at the 24th pace, pivoting left on her heel and taking two long strides - two kills.

“Manifests only have names, V. Trust me, I’ve had to comb through them before. Plus, think about it - what kind of idiots would choose to go on a cruise when people want them dead? No one would assume we’re that stupid. It’s perfect. They’re way more likely to assume we’d stick to land and backroads, or to do what you suggested before and try to charter a private flight. We’ll disappear in plain sight this way.” Eve reasoned. The logic was so horribly convoluted that it almost seemed… reasonable.

“That’s so stupid it might work.” Villanelle mumbled, pausing on the spot and squatting down, flicking aside dirt and grass, feeling along the ground.

“It is. I think it will. The tracker is out of your hand, and the tickets will be booked last minute… Too late for it to be picked up by anyone who might be watching the ships. Plus, with all the ships and boats that leave out of this port? We could be on any of them, if we were to take a boat. Wouldn’t you think it would be more likely we’d try to get on a ferry to England? They’re cheaper, quicker, leave more frequently… and Kenny says this cabin is one of the very last ones open. I know people in England that could help us, and it’s way more likely I’d try to reach out to them.” Eve said, watching her feel out the ground.

“Like you reached out to Kenny?” Villanelle asked.

“I trust him.” Eve was quick to remind her; Villanelle chuckled as she found the thing she was looking for. A long, flat piece of slate buried there acted as a marker for the metal safe box that lay a number of inches below it. Unfortunately, the only thing she had to dig with was the sharp point of the little safety hammer that Eve had used to break her out of the manor. She began pounding at the ground with it.

“I know you do. I just… Nothing has been easy, you know? У стра́ха глаза́ велики́.” She muttered a phrase in Russian, which made Eve crouch down beside her, looking over her face.

“Was that Russian? You never speak Russian. What does it mean?” She asked, brows knitting in concern.

“It’s an old phrase… Fear has large eyes. I don’t know how to describe that one in English. That I’m maybe being paranoid because I haven’t had a reason not to be yet.” She explained.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Eve reached out to stroke her back gently, smiling. “You have every reason to be worried. It hasn’t been easy. I’m worried too, you know.”

“Yeah? You seem really eager for this, though.” Villanelle wasn’t as skeptical as she sounded; just seeking reassurance.

“I trust _you_ , V. I know that you’ll protect us.”

The words had struck a cord in Villanelle that she had not expected, a cord that uncoiled some deep tension inside her with its resonance. It was as if a knot in her back had released and some unchecked pain in her spine had suddenly dissipated. She shifted from a squat to sitting, body flopping on to the grass as she looked to Eve. Her Eve. Gorgeous, confusing Eve, whose heart was a mystery she was only just beginning to figure out. She was strength and frailty in equal portions, exhausting and invigorating. Villanelle reached out with dirty fingers to take her hand. She kissed her knuckles.

“What’s that for?” Eve asked, smiling despite her confusion.

“You trust me.”

“Of course I do, V…” Eve began, moving in closer, sinking to her knees at Villanelle’s side.

“I didn’t know. You never said it before; you told me you loved me, not that you trust me.” Villanelle said softly, full of unbidden affection. Part of her wondered when she’d become a person who needed constant reassurance; was it only with Eve that she was so hungry for praise and gentle words? Had love made her soft, or had she always been in some way? Was it a part of her locked away deep inside, waiting for Eve to come around and set it free?

“I haven’t?” Eve sounded surprised, but didn’t look it, smiling gently.

“Not til now.”

“I… yeah, I can see that. I’m not great at expressing my feelings, if you couldn’t tell. But you’ve earned my trust, V. You’ve gone above and beyond when it comes to that. And I know I broke your trust and I’ll spend as long as I need trying to gain it back -” Eve began to spiral again, exhaustion and self-loathing still wreaking havoc on her mind; Villanelle leaned in to kiss her.

“No no… we’re talking about how you feel about me, now. I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are anymore. I believe you. Tell me you trust me again. That you love me. That I’ve done good for you. This has all been for you, Eve — I would have spent the rest of my life perfectly happy filling graveyards and fucking strangers, not being bothered with a future.” Villanelle interrupted, selfish, wanting the words that Eve seemed so intent on being stingy with.

“You’ve been amazing, V. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you gave me every reason to trust you. You’ve more than proven to me that I can trust you, and that you understand what love is. I didn’t know it was possible for a person to grow so much in a few days, but - extraordinary circumstances, right? You’ve been amazing.” Eve relented, allowing Villanelle just to bask for a moment in the things she said.

“It’s nice to be appreciated.” Villanelle gave a little sniff, leaning against her.

“You’re very surprising, you know. I… kind of expected you to be more…” Eve started, arm wrapping around her shoulders; Villanelle let her body go a little heavy against her chest. She closed her eyes, focusing on her warmth.

“Demanding?” Villanelle offered, opening one to peer up at her.

“Selfish, I think was the word I was going for.” Eve said it with a measure of hesitation, as if Villanelle would be offended. Instead, she gave a little snort.

“I am selfish. I’ve taken you away from your whole life and I’m not even a little bit sorry about it. I want you all for myself. So you weren’t wrong.”

“I guess that’s not wrong,” Eve laughed, fingers threading into her hair, “But it feels less than selfish. More… nice. You want a selfish amount of me, but you… you’re gentle about it. If that makes sense. And I didn’t know you could be gentle.”

“I can be rough, if you prefer?” Villanelle smirked, bringing a hand to rest over Eve’s breast. She squeezed, and Eve gave a noise and pulled away, making her snicker.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You adore me.” Villanelle reminded her, returning to her digging.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Get used to it,” Villanelle smirked, glancing to her as she pulled the box free, offering it out to her, “I’m right a lot. The combination is 4308.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she took it, fingers sliding along it to brush away excess dirt and to search for the combination lock and latch it held in place. It took some effort for her to turn the numbers, age and earth trying their best to keep Villanelle’s prize safe. She got it after a moment, though, making a face at the creaking and crackling the box made as the dirt made its last bid at keeping the box closed. When Eve looked inside, her eyes went wide, jaw going slack at the treasure inside. She looked to Villanelle.

“Holy crap.”

The rest of that day had been a blur of preparation; of wiring money to Kenny, of gathering additional toiletries, of trying to make themselves look less conspicuous for the time that they would board in the early morning. Well past when the sun set, they had finally settled in to sleep. They ended up jammed against one another in the back seat of the car, Eve’s body wedged against the seat back and Villanelle pressed against her, ass hanging over the edge. Their legs were a tangle and neither one at all comfortable, but with bodies too weak and weary to be particular. An alarm set for five in the morning jarred them both awake so heavily that Villanelle had sat bolt upright and threw an unconscious punch that connected with the back of the drivers seat. It had startled Eve so badly that she shoved her off the seats and she had become momentarily wedged between the seats. Their trip to the pier was short and mechanical.

Villanelle’s excitement had grown steadily throughout the morning, despite the annoying boarding process and the even more annoying nature of a crowd of people. With money secured, their room waiting, and Eve’s hand in hers, Villanelle hoped that they could finally have some real, tangible peace. Even if it was only a few days until the next major traumatizing event happened, she would at least have that time to recuperate. The suitcase dragged behind them contained, at that point, all their worldly possessions. The car was left at a police station just past the pier; Eve’s idea, hoping that Simone’s car would be returned to her. She had written “thank you/we’re sorry for stealing your car :(” on a piece of paper in the glove compartment, wrapping it around 500 Euros; an apology that Villanelle was sure would just confuse the girl, assuming she even got the car back.

“Okay, we’re in cabin 251… That’s on the starboard side… near… the aft!” Eve said as she walked, looking down at the little info packet they had picked up containing a map. She sounded so adorably pleased with herself that Villanelle could only grin, leaning over to look at it.

“’The fish swim towards the stern!’” She read at the bottom of the map, and glanced to the floor; a pattern of swimming fish embroidered into the carpet followed them. They paused and turned in sync.

“I can’t wait to see what the room looks like.” Eve started off in that direction with a skip in her step that had not been present previously.

“I just hope the bed is comfortable.”

“God, same. And that the shower is nice.” Eve agreed, matching up the markers on the wall. Their cabin was close to the midsection of the ship, and when they reached it Eve was practically buzzing with excitement, pulling her keycard out to test the door.

The room was about the size of a small hotel suite, but packed with luxury. The bed was enormous; Villanelle imagined she could sprawl across it comfortable sideways if the mood struck, and the linens looked soft. There was a small loveseat next to it looking on to a large television that looked perfect for curling up together with a movie (something that made Villanelle’s heart flutter; all she ever wanted was to lay with her and watch movies). There was a small refrigerator, a vanity, a large closet with a safe, and two additional chairs.

“Look at that bed, V.” Eve mumbled, wrapping both of her arms around Villanelle’s as she stared at it.

“It looks really comfy. Give it a try, I wanna look at the bathroom.” Villanelle grinned.

Eve nodded wordlessly, letting her go and kicking her shoes off towards the door. She paused only briefly to glance at Villanelle, who blinked and followed suit, remembering how Eve felt about shoes in the house. Villanelle gave a fond smile, walking barefoot into the bathroom. Two sinks, two mirrors, and a deep tub made her moan with joy. The towels waiting on the racks were unbelievably soft, and the water pressure was _excellent._ A knock on the door made her blink, moving towards it to open up. A pleasant looking young man waited behind it with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne seated in the center.

“Good morning, Mrs. Morel. Take this with our compliments, and thank you for sailing with us!” He said, his rehearsed words smooth despite being rehearsed.

“Thank you.” Villanelle said politely, bowing her head as she took it. She promptly closed the door in his face, locked the door, and switched on the do not disturb sign beside it.

“Eve! They already brought the champagne! How about we crack it open to celebrate not being dead? I think we earned…” Villanelle called back as she turned, intent on carrying the bucket to the desk where there were glasses to use. She trailed off, though, giving a soft sigh.

There, on the bed, Eve had sprawled out and fallen asleep almost instantly, her face squished into the sheets.

With a soft, fond smile, Villanelle set down the bucket and climbed on beside her, pulling Eve against her. Eve, apparently having completely bypassed the lighter sleep stages, barely moved but to snore very sweetly as Villanelle spooned into her. Face pressing into her hair, one leg wrapped around Eve’s, Villanelle found herself overtaken by sleep just as quickly.

The bed was _extremely_ comfortable.


	20. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve enjoy each other on the way to Iceland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this took so long to post; I've been having wrist issues making it very difficult to write more than a couple hundred words at a time. Between that and other personal stuff it took me quite a while to get this chapter done... I hope you all enjoy. It's super surreal to be ending such a long fic and I'm incredibly grateful that people have been enjoying it. Thank you especially to the people who have commented right along the way, you kept me motivated. This is the longest fic I've ever completed and I hope I ended it right.
> 
> Love you all.

On the first day, they slept and slept. It was the sleep of exhaustion so deep that the body, when given the opportunity, shuts down every non-essential function in its desperation to repair and renew. They woke for half an hour stretches here and there; to use the bathroom, to eat, to hydrate. During one slightly longer stretch they bathed in the high-pressure shower and tended one another’s various abrasions and cuts. Proper clothing, after the shower, was deemed wholly unnecessary; they fell back into bed wrapped in towels, still damp, unable to resist the embrace of the bed. Each time they touched the bed they became a tangle of limbs, rocked to sleep by the ship’s movements. It wasn’t until the evening of the second day that either felt really compelled to stay awake. Even then, though, it was only Villanelle migrating from the bed to the loveseat to see what movies there were to choose from and to order room service.

By the time she had chosen a movie (seminal black comedy classic _Jennifer’s Body_ ) and picked up the phone, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Eve, half asleep, had crawled to the edge of the bed and began to squirm her body on to Villanelle’s, apparently unwilling to stand and move the foot away. Villanelle gave a snort, offering her free hand, phone nestled between her shoulder and ear. Eve took it, pulling closer, haphazardly stretching her naked form across the gap and on to Villanelle’s lap. Laughing at the display, Villanelle paid no mind to guest services answering.

“Baby, what the hell are you doing?” Villanelle asked, pulling her over with both arms.

“Mmmwhere’d you go?” Eve answered, shifting to sit properly in her lap.

“I’m ordering food. Want anything?”

“Burger. Fries. Cheeseburger. With bacon. And a fried egg.” Eve said decisively, resting her head against Villanelle’s other shoulder. A kiss to the neck made her tingle; the position of her summoned up the memory of the first time her hand had been allowed between her legs. Villanelle bit her lip slightly, wrapping an arm around her, other hand coming to rest on her thigh. The train felt like it had happened months ago.

“Sorry - did you get that? Bacon cheeseburger with an egg - medium is good - and fries. No, nothing special about the fries, she’s American, as long as they’re greasy it’s - ow!” Villanelle laughed as Eve pinched the side of her breast in retaliation for her comment.

“Jerk.” Eve muttered, smiling against her collar.

“And I’ll have the tomato mozzarella panini… do you guys have cheesecake, too? I really want cheesecake. Or ice cream. Both? Well, I want both then. Yes. Cherries on the cheesecake. I want a full one. Chocolate and strawberry ice cream. Bring milk too. And a bottle of champagne. Yes, that’s right… uh huh. Yes…”

“Coffee too. Wait, we didn’t even touch the first bottle of -”

“And coffee. Oh, and bring some fruits, too.” Villanelle added to the growing list of demands, grinning. “Anything else baby?”

“No, I think that’s good.” Eve chuckled.

“That’s it. Uh huh. Yeah. Yeah, with cherries. Mhm. Okay. Yeah, just knock when you get here.” Villanelle said as they read back the order, flicking her hand absently to try and psychically urge the person on the other line to hurry it along. She wanted to pay attention to Eve, who had just pressed her lips to her neck. She slid her hand from the outside to the inside of her thigh, squeezing her purposefully. She grinned when Eve squeezed her hand back with her thighs and gave her neck a mind-melting nip. Villanelle hung up the phone, the ability to focus on it lost between Eve’s teeth.

“You’re affectionate, huh?” She mumbled, fingers flexing around her handful of flesh. Eve continued to squeeze her, lifting a hand. She threaded her fingers into Villanelle’s messy hair, holding her head still as her lips trailed up across her jawline.

“I just miss you.” Eve mumbled. There was the hint of something in her gentle declaration; the hint of many meanings. Villanelle turned her head to catch her lips with more tenderness than she had expected.

“You miss me? I’m right here, baby. We’re together. We slept together for a whole day.” Villanelle pointed out, hoping that her words would coax her into disclosure. She was still too sleepy to try and suss out the secrets in her words.

“It feels like it’s been longer, doesn’t it? Since…” Eve’s thumb raised a little, moved to ghost over Villanelle’s still tender cheek wound.

“Yeah, it does. It’s like we’ve been running around for months and months. Time is fake.” Villanelle’s cheek stung a little at even the touch, but she didn’t react outwardly.

“It is. It’s only been a couple of days since the last time you tried to get in my pants…” Eve pointed out.

“Is that what you miss?” Villanelle gave a laugh, though the statement made her wonder. Was she worried that the incident had turned Villanelle off to her? Would Villanelle have to spent the rest of their lives reassuring Eve that she still wanted to fuck her on a nearly constant basis? Giving a little sigh, she dragged her hand through clenched thighs and squirmed her fingers into another position, cupping her mound. Eve’s eyes slipped shut, legs parting.

“I know you forgave me, and that —” Eve began, and Villanelle gave a growl. An actual growl, rumbling deep in her throat, stopping Eve’s anxious venting before it began. She dipped her fingers between her folds, causing Eve to spread further. Her other hand slid up her side and took her by the side of the neck, clasping her, pulling her in to speak to her in an irritated whisper.

“Eve, you need to stop. Okay? Stop being so fucking insecure. I can’t keep reminding you that we’re okay because every time I do it gets harder to forget that I was hurt. And I want to. I want to forget about it _because_ I forgave you, _because_ I still want you, _because_ I’m running away with you and I don’t think it’s a mistake. And I _promise_ you from the very bottom of my heart that I want to fuck you all the time, even then,” As she spoke, Villanelle teased her, thumb locating her clit easily and stroking it just barely, rolling it at every because and promise, “Even when I was in that damp, nasty cellar, all I could think about was you. I thought about how much I would rather be fucking you, about how badly I wanted to get back to you. Even when we were talking after you came to save me, I got so tired of talking about it, about our stupid feelings - I just wanted to spread your legs and lick and suck you until you stopped thinking. I don’t want to hear you apologize, I just want to hear you moan.”

“V, I -” Eve began to respond, but Villanelle wouldn’t stand for it. She plunged her fingers into her instead, wiping the thoughts from her mind and the words from her lips. Eve was slick and tight, wrapping her fingers in comforting heat. Two, joined quickly by a third, almost clumsy in her efforts to pull out what she wanted from her. She thought about adding a fourth, but that would be for another time.

“Just moan, Eve.” She interrupted, leaning in to bite the spot she loved to feel a bit of pain; the side of her neck, below her ear. Eve nearly spasmed, arching against Villanelle’s side - but she did as requested. She moaned, helpless and drunk on feeling already. Familiar heat spread on to Villanelle’s palm as she curled and spread her digits; she held Eve’s neck firmly, but loose enough that Eve could easily free herself and turn the tables if she wanted. Not that she would have wanted to, though. Not with Villanelle inside of her, mapping her textures, seeking out every spot she had only just begun to learn.

“Isn’t this better than feeling bad all the time? You’re mine, Eve. The next time you find yourself feeling like something is wrong between us, just remember that. Remember that I want you all the time.” She told her before latching on to her neck with a little more violence than before. She sucked a patch of skin between her teeth, intent on marking her. One mark that would fade away quickly, compared to the marks that would remain on Villanelle for a lifetime. Eve submitted to the feeling, whimpering and moaning, fingers in Villanelle’s hair gripping hard but making no effort to pull her away. Her thumb pressed and rolled over Eve’s clit as she slid her other fingers in and out, curving and pressing, slow and hard.

“V-Villanelle,” Eve gasped, her hips pushing against her, greedy for more. Villanelle was happy to oblige, quickening her pace, pounding her knuckle-deep on each thrust in. She never let her neck go, even when Eve came explosively, body seizing as her voice raised louder than Villanelle had heard it before. Villanelle moaned into her neck, the sound of Eve’s orgasm traveling as if tangible down her spine and into her gut, winding her tight, shifting loose a flood of arousal that soon soaked the couch cushion.

“God, do you even know how you look and sound? I only have one regret about everything we did in France, you know…” Villanelle mumbled, kissing the angry red mark she had left on her neck. She had yet to withdraw her fingers or stop thrusting; she just did so more gently now, relishing the feeling of her.

“Y-yeah?” Eve turned her head, lids heavy. She made no effort to still Villanelle’s hand, eyes slipping shut as her other moved from her neck to her hip, holding her tight. She pressed up against her, gently grinding against her ass.

“I should have thought to go to a shop and pick up a strap. Then I could bend you over the bed and fuck you the way I bet you’d love… or make you ride my cock.” Villanelle smirked, punctuating her words with a harder thrust.

“Oh my god.” Eve moaned - it wasn’t clear if it was because of the thrusting or because of her words.

“Maybe they’ll have a place in Iceland… I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“That’s going to be all I can think about now.” Eve admitted, eyes slipping shut.

“I’m so sorry. We have a hairbrush I could put between my legs if you want. It’s got a nice soft handle cover?”

“You’re not fucking me with a hairbrush, Villan- fuck!” Eve gasped as Villanelle picked her pace back up. She brought a hand down to still her, making Villanelle give a pout. The pout was short lived, though; when she went to remove her fingers, Eve shook her head.

“Don’t - I just want to change positions, my back is bent all weird…” She explained.

“Do whatever you need to do, baby.” Villanelle mumbled, watching as she moved.

There had been no lie to what she had told Eve; she didn’t want to dwell on feelings that were already passed, nor focus too heavily on the things they had both done to get to where they were. All she wanted was this; Eve’s skin against hers, Eve’s pussy gripping her fingers, Eve’s mouth on her. Talk was so tiresome, so confusing, and no matter what she said there was always more to say, more to explain, more that might not be believed. It was so much easier to show Eve how she felt this way. She could spend hours and hours exploring her, touching her, expressing what she felt in ways that words in any language never truly touched. The way she would worship Eve’s body until both of theirs were spent was a better testament to the love she felt than any poem or proclamation. She hoped that Eve could see it in her expressions, feel it in the way she fucked her. Could Eve tell how much she loved her right then, as she was shifting to straddle her hips? Did she even notice the way that Villanelle couldn’t stop staring at her, or feel the way her heart pounded for her?

“I can still ride you like this, right?” Eve said, settling against her - but right as she began to move, there was a knock on the door.

Villanelle groaned.

“Forgot about the food… We could always ignore them and I can just have you for dinner.” She offered, damning herself for forgetting about the order so quickly, so transfixed by Eve that rational thoughts and schedules left her brain entirely.

“No… No. We should eat actual food. We barely ate yesterday.” Eve’s head dropped to her shoulder, muscles gripping her despite her decision. It made Villanelle grin, bouncing Eve a little on the thigh she had settled on. The angle was awkward for her hand and wrist, but it was easy to fight through the discomfort when her reward was another gasp, another noise, another shift of the hips on her.

“You sure? I really like this position… and I think you do too.” Villanelle mumbled, bringing her other hand between them, trailing up Eve’s belly and chest, encouraging her to lean back from her. She leaned in to take her nipple into her mouth, tongue sliding circles around it.

“V… God, why did we have to order food!” She whined - there was another knock.

“Mrs. Morel, guest services here with your food!” The servant called.

“Do you want me to stop and get it? I don’t think she’s going to stop until somebody takes that food. We could always leave her out there…” Villanelle unlatched, but did not stop bouncing her. Eve was aiding the process, now, pushing down at every upthrust of her fingers. She could only imagine how spectacular she would be if Villanelle was wearing a strap; Eve was so quick to pick up on her rhythm and meet it that she found herself stuck on the mental image. She could imagine Eve wanting to do all the work, riding her in a way that was graceless and animalistic, desperate and rough in her desire to come. Villanelle wouldn’t mind being used in that instance. Not when it was Eve. Never when it was Eve.

“Yes… No… No - god, not when I’m this close again, V!” Eve whispered, shoving herself down hard. She could certainly get off in the position, but the knocking was distracting her from it - maybe she needed a firmer hand?

“How about this… I’ll put you on the bed and make you come as quick as I can, then we eat?” Villanelle suggested, gently removing her fingers. Eve whimpered at the loss, barely reacting when Villanelle wrapped both arms around her and lifted. She was so fixated on feeling that when Villanelle lifted her, she found Eve’s legs wrapped tight around her waist right away, squeezing her tight, seeking her with her body. She was so quick to revert to some ancient, bestial creature that could only think of pleasure and contact, and Villanelle wanted nothing more than to oblige that part of her. Villanelle recognized it as part of the monster that Eve feared, the one she tried to crush down. She would feed her monster, keep it sated and content.

“Here - lay down, spread your legs for me. It’s gonna be rough - is that okay?” She asked, checking in as she laid her out on the bed. Eve detached herself, legs parting wide. She gave no verbal response, watching her with heavy lidded eyes. The expression there was confirmation enough, soft and full of wanting. Without further questioning, Villanelle positioned herself at Eve’s side, leaning in to kiss her lips hard, fervent enough to match the passion built back up inside of Eve. Eve pulled at her, trying to coax her on to the bed atop her, but she stayed where she was as she dragged her hand back down. Her fingers once again found a home inside of her - it was where they belonged.

Eve moaned into her mouth as she set a vicious pace, and did not stop moaning as Villanelle curled and twisted and slammed her digits into her with singleminded purpose. Villanelle could only hope that Eve always wanted her the way she wanted Eve; that she would never grow tired of the feel of her hands, or of the touch of her lips. She could no longer see a future for herself that didn’t have Eve in it. After everything they had gone through, she refused to believe there was one. A little part of her knew without asking that Eve felt the same, regardless of her reservations or her prior actions - she could see it in the way that Eve tried to pull her down to the bed, the way Eve whispered her name into her mouth as she went careening off the precipice again. She withdrew her fingers only when Eve stopped clenching and pulsing, and did so slowly, pressing kisses to her chin and lips.

“Be right back.” She grinned, taking a corner of the crumpled blanket and covering Eve’s recovering form.

“V…” Eve mumbled, watching as Villanelle walked, naked, towards the door. “Put something on!”

“No!” Villanelle called back, sing-songing the word as she flung the door open, voice raising an octave and adopting a light French accent, “Allo! Sorry for the delay. I was fucking my wife. Let me take that for you.”

“I - I - I can just leave the cart and come back for it later if you’re busy, Mrs. Morel…” She wide-eyed server said, keeping her gaze firmly on Villanelle’s eyes after a brief but noticeable journey down her body.

“That would be lovely, thank you. Come back for it in two hours, no?” Villanelle smirked, reaching past her to pull the cart into the room.

“Of course.” The girl said.

Villanelle shut the door, turning back to Eve, who sat up and laughed.

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

—

Another three days were spent in the safety and solitude of their suite before the need to explore began to overrule the fear of dangerous strangers. The fifth night on the cruise brought the impulse to crack open the bottles of champagne that they had collected and subsequently neglected; there were three at that point, and two were consumed within the span of two hours. Villanelle, who considered herself to be very atypical and poor excuse for a Russian, was slightly drunk halfway through the first bottle and completely bombed by the time the second was empty. She felt dizzy and thrilled with life, wanting nothing more than to pin Eve down and nibble on her neck and collarbones. Eve paced excitedly as she went back and forth from the closet to the bed, putting on clothing and nearly tipping over each time she leaned down to pull something on or take something off. Villanelle, still naked and sitting on the bed, giggled and shifted closer to catch her in case she did. They had bathed not long before, bringing that second bottle into the tub and making a terrible mess of the place.

“How about this? This dress is so pretty. Hey. Hey. How did you know my sizes back before we were together?” Eve asked, cheeks pink as she brought a lovely pale blue dress to her chest; one that would flow with the wind that crept off the ocean, slightly sheer. “I never told you. Did you break into my house before the first time? Or did you just know it by looking at me?”

“Huh?” Villanelle asked, watching her move. She was naked again, and the sight of her skin was distracting.

“How. Did. You. Know. My. Size.” Eve annunciated every word deliberately hard. Villanelle grinned as the words settled in.

“You have a bad memory, baby. I stole your suitcase, remember?” Villanelle said, sliding off the bed and walking on her knees to where Eve stood, wrapping her arms around her thighs.

“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that - what are you doing? We’re going out, get dressed! None of that.” Eve pouted down at her, eyes narrowed in a way that was painfully cute. Villanelle leaned in to rest her nose between her hips, kissing the spot where her labia connected. Eve’s fingers threaded into her hair.

“We can go out later, I want to eat you out now. You smell good.” Villanelle proclaimed softly. She was salivating at the thought. Eve did smell fantastic, freshly showered but still distinctly _her._

“You’re ridiculous, stop it. I wanna go out! I’m sick of this room, I want to see the rest of the ship. You can do that later, okay? Or… maybe…” Eve trailed off at the end, puzzling Villanelle enough that she pulled her head away, looking at her. Looking up was dizzying; Eve was so far above her, looming down like a landmark from a distance. A scarred, beautiful monolith. Villanelle was all too comfortable on her knees.

“Maybeeee?” Villanelle mimicked her, enjoying the way her head swam as she observed her.

“Maybe I can do it to _you_ instead to calm you down so we can go?” Eve suggested. Villanelle jutted out her lower lip again.

“A lot of people would do a lot of bad things for opportunity to go down on me, you know. You say it like it’s such this chore!” She lamented, not noticing that her grasp on English was loosening a little, nor that her accent had thickened significantly.

“It’s not a chore! It’s my new favorite thing.” Eve whined at her in return, returning the pout. “And you don’t let me do it very often.”

“I don’t? I’m a monster.” Villanelle gasped. “It’s because I enjoy being between your legs way more…”

“Shut up and get back on the bed, now I really wanna.” Eve demanded, shifting backwards, suddenly overcome with the need to taste her. Villanelle stared up at her, eyes wide.

“You’re so sexy, ordering me around like that…” Villanelle purred, now feeling the urge deep inside to egg her on, to encourage that little spark of dominance that had just flickered in Eve’s eyes and voice. Her champagne bubbled brain raced with the thoughts; what would Eve do if she actually submitted? Would she know that Villanelle had never allowed anyone to be even a little dominant with her? Would Villanelle even enjoy it if she let her? She shook her head roughly; she was overthinking it, wasn’t she? Why overthink when she could just enjoy the ride? She had always enjoyed new experiences, and this was _Eve_ who wanted control. Eve, who she had killed for, who had killed for her in return. Eve, who she had given away her life for, and who had given hers in return. Eve, who she never, _ever_ stopped wanting.

“Oh? You like that?” Eve raised a brow, looking down at her. She could see Eve tuning in to her frequency, could feel the shift in her demeanor.

“I think I could definitely get into it, yeah.” Villanelle agreed.

“Then why the hell are you still on the floor? Get on the bed like I told you.” Eve placed a hand on her hip.

“Yes ma’am!” Villanelle exclaimed, trying too quickly to raise to her feet - she had to grip the bed behind her to avoid ending up on her face. Standing up was dizzying, and the sight of Eve bridging the gap she’d created between them made it more so.

“No more talking. I just want to hear you moan.” Eve said, quoting her statement from days before. Her voice had dropped a little lower, heavier, more alluring. She punctuated it by placing her hands on Villanelle’s shoulders and shoving her back, bodily, on to the bed. Villanelle’s body bounced once and settled, and she pulled herself back so that her legs were on it as well. She refrained from speaking, curious and excited to see how Eve would play this out. Would it come naturally? Would she fumble? Was it the champagne making her so eager to turn the tables? She always had so many questions when it came to Eve, so much exploration to be done.

“Spread your legs.” Eve said. Demanding, but not rude; she hadn’t gotten on to the bed yet, watching from the foot. She brought her hands to her hair, pushing still drying curls back out of her face and fluffing them out the way she did when she was thinking, or nervous. Reaching behind herself to grab a handful of pillows, Villanelle pulled them under her head and shoulders to prop herself up a little. She wanted to see everything that Eve did. Every face she made, every movement she initiated, every bit of confidence or nerve that Eve felt, Villanelle wanted to take it all in. She wanted to take in _Eve_ in a way that she had never desired from anyone else. Not even Anna, whose face had haunted her dreams for years, had ever seen that side of her. Silently, she spread for Eve, watching as her gaze flicked down once before returning to her face. Villanelle broke the contact, wanting Eve to look, wanting to feel her eyes dissecting every inch of her the way that Villanelle so often did to her. She wanted Eve to understand why she always felt the need to take her in in quiet appreciation - and more so, she wanted Eve to feel that need too.

It appeared that Eve understood, at least, standing at the edge of the bed and allowing her eyes to take an agonizingly slow journey around Villanelle’s nude and uncharacteristically prone form. She was alarmed at the anxiety and excitement the look instilled in her in equal parts, goosebumps raising her follicles across her arms and thighs. She wanted her to stop looking but to never stop, the inner battle between the thoughts dizzying her once again. She laid her arms at her sides and gripped the bedsheets, trying to focus on Eve’s face rather than fixate on the trail her eyes followed, to bask in the attention rather than wonder what went through her mind. She suddenly understood why Eve was always so bewildered when she did it to her.

“Whenever I look at you like that, I—” Villanelle began to explain, but Eve brought a finger to her own lips.

“No more talking, okay?” Eve’s voice was gentle.

Villanelle only nodded rapidly, taking a deep, slow breath.

“Good girl.”

It was a combination of words that, were they coming from lips other than the spectacularly plush ones upon her lover’s face, would cause a feeling of revulsion and anger. From Eve, however, the reaction was entirely the opposite. They trickled down her spine, warm and sweet as honey, slipping out from between her legs in a gentle rush of new arousal, settling as a dull throb in her clit as her heart sped up. Good girl - she would be good for Eve, and let her do as she pleased. She would let Eve take over, for once, for real, and try to really let go of the reins she normally kept wrapped around her wrists. The alcohol eased the process considerably, and when Eve finally crawled on to the bed thirty years later Villanelle was ready to accept her in any way she saw fit.

Eve laid over top of her, placing clumsy, eager kisses along her collarbones and down between her breasts. She traveled down, feather-light touches of her lips tracing the path and lingering after they left each spot. It was as if there was a highway of nerves that she was lighting up, powering up her entire body in the process. Her heart pounded so hard and fast that it felt ready to burst by the time Eve reached her hips. She finally added her hands to the equation, bringing them to Villanelle’s breasts as she continued to tease with gentle kisses to the valley of her hipbones. The addition of her hands squeezing and thumbs stroking over hardened nipples finally pulled a moan from deep in Villanelle’s chest, and she could swear she felt Eve smile between her hips. The urge to place a hand on the back of Eve’s head was almost overwhelming as she finally brought herself down, kissing over her labia in a way that caused an involuntary and entirely undignified whimper to escape from some hidden place in her throat.

“You smell good, too.” Eve observed, eyes slipping shut. Villanelle brought a hand up to her hair, beginning to thread into it, but Eve opened her eyes to stare up at her.

“Give me your hands.” She said; as she spoke, she slid her arms under Villanelle’s thighs, propping them up. She gave a little whine, but did as Eve wished. There was nothing Eve could tell her to do that she would say no to at that moment in time, not with as tipsy and needy as she felt. She placed her wrists into Eve’s upturned palms, moaning softly as her fingers wrapped firmly around them. As Eve’s tongue finally slid between her folds, she moaned louder still. Eve’s pace was maddeningly slow and tender, her tongue trailing up the underside of her clit. She was intentionally clumsy, mapping her with her tongue rather than sticking to a single spot.

“Eeeeve…” Villanelle whined, drawing out her name in frustration. She felt her smile again, and then her tongue was gone.

“Yes?” Eve asked, looking up at her with a smirk.

“Why are you teasing me if you wanted to go out? We’re never gonna see the rest of the ship at this rate, you know.” She whined, hoping her words would invoke some sort of speed.

“I thought I told you to stop talking. Maybe I should stop and leave you here if you aren’t going to behave?” Eve began to move away; Villanelle’s eyes shot wide open, head shaking rapidly. Part of her knew Eve wouldn’t do that, but her champagne-addled brain refused to take the risk.

“Sorry, baby. I’ll behave.” Villanelle’s voice seemed so small in her obedience, but it brought her a strange sort of ease of mind. She surrendered to it and was rewarded with Eve’s attention once again. Spreading as much as she could, she watched as Eve dipped into her again, tongue caressing her clit with renewed purpose. She was no longer gentle but rough and fast, sucking and swirling and pulling the moans she had wanted to hear out of Villanelle with ease.

It would be so easy to break out of Eve’s grasp and take control, to yank her away and sit on her face or to pin her down and fuck her until she couldn’t even think about what else was on the ship. Villanelle was certainly strong enough to overpower her, but she found herself wanting to stay like that, prone in her fingers and under her tongue. There was comfort to be found in such trust, trust that was hard won and nearly lost. And with a tongue skillful despite inexperience, Villanelle found herself more than happy to, for once, just lay back and enjoy it. To be good for her.

The sight of Eve between her legs, eyes closed as she worked her over, was incredible. Breathtaking, even, in a way that was almost literal; Villanelle’s breaths came in short bursts between moans, heavy and gasping. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or Eve’s amateurish but enthusiastic mouth that caused an orgasm to hit her so much more quickly than normal. Perhaps it was the change in dynamic. She couldn’t be sure; the only thing she could truly understand at that moment was the feeling of her nerves catching fire, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. She moaned hard and long, unabashed and struggling to keep her hips still as Eve refused to break away.

Some time later, Eve laid her head against Villanelle’s thigh, fighting to catch her breath as she finally came up for air. She released Villanelle’s wrists, smiling up at her. Villanelle wanted to eat her whole.

“… So, when we go out what do you want to see first?” She asked.

“I don’t know, Eve…” Villanelle asked as Eve pulled an arm back from under her thigh.

“There must be _something_ you want to do.” Eve said; as she spoke, Villanelle watched her hand. It crept up between Villanelle’s legs, a finger tracing her slit. She groaned as it disappeared inside of her.

“Whatever you want to do. All I can think about is you sitting on my face right now.” Villanelle didn’t intend for her voice to sound so whiny and needy, but Eve had brought it out of her.

“I think that can be arranged - it’s still early.” Eve grinned, sitting upright.

They never made it out of the room that night, too fixated on one another to imagine life outside of it.

—

“This is stupid. These things are rigged. Why would you waste your money on them?” Villanelle protested as Eve sat at a machine. It was the next day and Eve was two gin and tonics deep.

“Because they’re _fun_ , V.” Eve rolled her eyes, chuckling her amusement at Villanelle’s nay-saying.

“They seem more loud than fun. And in this case, maybe more than a little racist?” She observed. The screen held a large golden caricature of a grinning Buddha and the music it played was entirely stereotypical.

“Don’t be a stick in the mud. Drink and play with me! Sit down at this one before someone else takes it.” Eve slapped the seat beside her, grinning.

Villanelle rolled her eyes but conceded easily at the sight of her smile, sitting at the machine beside her. She had opted for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc rather than something harder; Eve had yet to understand that Villanelle wasn’t a fan of drinking, typically. To be unaware of her surroundings or unable to react normally was a thought that filled her with a dread she would likely never voice. She would stay at least mostly sober to take care of Eve, who she would let get as sloppy as she wanted to get. They had been in the room for six out of the eight days of the cruise, and though Villanelle would have been content staying there the other two, Eve had been going stir-crazy. Villanelle was still learning the nuances of a real relationship, but she assumed that holding your lover hostage for the sake of quieting your paranoia wasn’t healthy. Even if it was justified in their case.

In the almost week since they had been aboard the ship, their wounds had closed and their bruises faded. Villanelle would no doubt have an admirable facial scar. It would forever mar her otherwise perfect features, but she found herself not minding the way she would have a month before. It was another mark carved into her by Eve, though in a much less direct fashion than the one that still raised the flesh on her stomach. She held a fondness for it all the same, and appreciated what they both represented. Physical testaments to the evolution of their relationship; rolling-boil rage and blinding devotion split her skin with comparable intensity. She brought a finger to the mark on her face as she pondered it, comforted by the sting as she watched Eve bet far too much money on the offensive slot machine.

“50 Euro, baby? Isn’t that a bit much!?” Villanelle protested.

“Since when do you care about being frugal? Go big or go home! Woo!” Eve said, louder than necessary as she pressed the button to spin the virtual reels.

“We don’t even really have a home right now, you know.” Villanelle grinned at her enthusiasm, watching the screen.

“Who cares? Let’s just enjoy now.” Eve said, then yelled as she won; though she only won her money back, Villanelle understood the enthusiasm. It was so loud and bright, the deep voice of the machine’s narrator singing her praises. It was easy to imagine people sitting there for hours, chasing the feeling of empty praise and the possibility of free money. Biting her lip, she turned to her own machine.

“Okay, I’ll try it _once_ just because you look like you’re having fun.” Villanelle smirked, following the prompts on her own machine.

Three hours later and three hundred Euro poorer, the pair walked the promenade deck. Eve had stopped drinking after a third gin and tonic and the cool sea air was sobering her up better than anything else could. She leaned heavily against Villanelle’s side, enjoying her warmth; it was already dark out, and music could be heard from an upper deck. Some night club party, no doubt, a thing that they would avoid (since every experience the two had in night clubs the past year had been horrific in some way). Squeezing her shoulder lightly, Villanelle watched the sky, the moon in waning gibbous and the stars bright and brilliant. She wondered how the sky would look in Iceland. She had only ever been there a few times, and never for longer than a day trip. It would be the first country she had been in for ages where there were no bodies that could be attributed to her. She wondered how long she would go before that changed - or if it would change. She wondered if Eve would feel the same way about her if she never killed again; she knew that Eve was attracted to danger. Their time together had shown as much.

“This is nice.” Eve mumbled, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“Long walks on the promenade? I think there’s a song about that.” Villanelle quipped, still watching the sky and trusting Eve to lead their steps. She knew Eve was looking at her, though. She could feel her gaze, intense in its warmth.

“Probably. I meant more… that it’s nice to be able to be together. To…” Eve trailed off, as if unable to catch the thought to verbalize it.

“To not be running? To be free?” Villanelle asked.

“Yeah. That sounds right.” Eve smiled; she laid her head back down, squeezing her around the waist.

“I don’t think I know what it’s like to be free, Eve.”

“Nobody is ever really free. But I think we’ll be more free than most, right?”

“Yeah; we’re all tied to something, I guess. At least we got to choose what we’re tied too… We chose each other.” Villanelle agreed, looking back down to her.

“We chose this?” Eve snorted, squeezing her a little tighter.

“We both have very, very poor judgment, huh?” Villanelle smirked, watching as Eve’s eyes raised to meet hers.

“That’s for sure. I wouldn’t choose me.”

“I’d definitely choose me if I weren’t me, but since I already have that going for me, I chose you.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.” Eve laughed for real, giving her head a shake and using it as an excuse to nuzzle further against her. It was becoming difficult to walk, but she didn’t mind.

“Not overconfident, though.” Villanelle clarified.

“No, you pretty much earned your confidence.” Eve agreed.

Silence settled over them once more as they got to the ship’s bow, and Villanelle was delighted to find it empty of people recreating the scene from Titanic. It was likely too cold for the rest, but the chill did not offend the pair. The frigid salt spray felt sort of nice on her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warm body against her side. Eve stared out into water, a look of quiet content in her features that made Villanelle’s heart flutter just a little to see. Taking a deep breath, she stared out with her, wondering what life in Iceland would be like. A new life, a new start; she found herself spiraling into different scenarios as quickly as she began thinking of it. She imagined Eve leaving her in the night. She imagined _herself_ leaving Eve in the night. She imagined finding that they hated each other after the initial glow of new, strange love wore out. She imagined finding the opposite; that they loved every bit of it and would never be apart again. She imagined being found by the Twelve and dragged back, kicking and screaming, leaving Eve in a pool of blood in their bed. She imagined Iceland ending up being the most boring place to live, and deciding with Eve that they should get to Alaska after all. She imagined loving it, and growing as old as fate would allow them to grow together.

“You have that look on your face.” Eve brought a hand up to rest it on Villanelle’s cool cheek. Her hand was just as cold, but the contact began to warm both. She focused on the feeling of Eve’s fingers, eyes slipping shut.

“What look?”

“The look you get when you’re stuck on a thought. What is it?” She asked. Villanelle opened her eyes to regard her; she had learned Villanelle’s mannerisms so quickly in their self-imposed isolation, yet somehow Eve remained a mystery to her. There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to some of the things that she did, but it didn’t bother her a bit; Eve excited her universally.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” She asked, wrapping her arms around her entirely, pulling Eve close to her chest. Eve slid hers inside of Villanelle’s open coat, burrowing inside of her like an adorable parasite. “I’m just thinking about Iceland and what it’s gonna be like. And I realized that anything could happen there and I have no idea how it’s going to go.”

“It can only be as good as we make it. We just have to stick together.” Eve didn’t say it dismissively; her tone had a quiet confidence.

“What if you get bored with me? Or I get bored with you? Or someone finds us, or—” Villanelle asked, trailing off when she felt Eve’s fingers sliding down the back of her trousers and into her underwear. Her still frosty fingers gripped both cheeks, causing Villanelle to clench to hard she wasn’t able to finish her thought, hissing, “Eve your hands are so _fucking cold_!”

“And you have a hot ass, just accept it.” Eve laughed, making no effort to remove them. Instead she looked up at Villanelle’s face, smiling, warm. “I’ll keep you interested, V. And I don’t think you’re capable of being boring in a way that I wouldn’t enjoy. That’s a thing, you know - sometimes boring is nice. And if someone comes for us - oh well. We deal with that if it happens. And… I’m not leaving you, V. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Villanelle quickly dismissed her last thought.

“I’m being serious. I’m still… having some issues about what I did. Dwelling on the way his face looked and sometimes I’m still having trouble sleeping - but I’m not running out on you again.” She promised. Villanelle squeezed her tighter.

“That’ll get better over time. And you can always talk to me about it, you know. That’s pretty much my main area of expertise. Or when you feel that way I can distract you. That’s my second area of expertise.” Villanelle smirked.

“I know. I just don’t want to talk sometimes. Especially about that.” Eve explained.

“We don’t always have to talk about things.”

“Yeah… Wanna go back to the room?” Eve squeezed her ass again.

“Distraction time?” Villanelle pulled back, raising a brow.

“Distraction time.” Eve confirmed, laughing.

—

The last day came quickly.

Villanelle listened with growing anxiety to the captain prattling on about docking and the procedures that guests had to follow to exit the ship. Eve moved about the room gathering their things into the suitcase, nervous energy radiating off of her with such intensity that Villanelle could only watch. They were leaving the safety of their onboard cabin into a new series of unknowns, and it hung heavy in the air that they had no real plan. They had money, clothing, and their lives, but only a cursory knowledge of the country they would call home, even if for just a while. If they had been found out somehow somewhere between France and Iceland, there could be people waiting to collect them, and Villanelle no longer had her gun and lacked connections there. Aside from the worry, though, their nervous systems were alight with something else —

Excitement.

Everything suddenly felt brand new. Even though Villanelle had started over a dozen times or more, none of those occasions had been like this. Always a different location, a different flat, different clothes and identity - but always empty, her life still bound to the Twelve. Forever tied through obligation, hedonism, and ethics-free tracking devices. She had never realized how much it felt like razor wire wrapped around her jugular while under their collective thumb. Now, though, she was free. _Actually_ free from all of it. And with Eve at her side, it all seemed so much brighter. Eve, who had proven that she was boundlessly resourceful and more complex than she could have ever dreamed. Eve, who loved _her_ and had chosen to walk this path with her.

Forgetting her worries, Villanelle caught Eve by the waist and hauled her to the bed atop her. Eve, arms full of used towels that they had not allowed room service to come in to take, gave a noise as she fell with her.

“V, we don’t have time -” Eve began to chide.

“I know. I’m just excited and I wanted to hold you for a minute, okay? Put those towels on the floor, they’ll have to deep clean this room anyways. We fucked in every inch of it.” Villanelle pointed out.

“I don’t want them to think we’re slobs _and_ pervs.” Eve protested.

“Who cares? We’re never going to see any of them again, you weirdo!” Villanelle laughed, peppering kisses over her face.

“Are you going to be mean to any neighbors we end up having?” Eve dropped the towels and smirked, closing her eyes to bask in the attention.

“I’m gonna be mean and you’re gonna be weird. Maybe it’ll make them move out and we can take over their places.” Villanelle suggested between kisses.

“Are we just going to drive people away and annex their houses until we own a village?” Eve snorted.

“We can build a sovereign nation of two!” Villanelle proclaimed, sitting up and hauling Eve with her.

“Just us two?” Eve asked, pulling away.

“Yeah. Unless you suddenly want kids. In which case I’m gonna have to know now so I can mentally prepare myself - it’ll take me like ten years probably, okay?” Villanelle’s nose wrinkled.

“God no. What about dogs, though? I’d like some pets…”

The banter continued, flowing easily between them as they finished packing and made their way off of the ship, slipping into the crowd. Arm in arm, they walked down the gangway and into the port; at the first sight of Reykjavik, both stopped, moving to the side to allow others to pass. Though it looked much like any other city, the mountains looming in the horizon were breathtaking. They wouldn’t stay in Reykjavik long, only enough time to find somewhere to settle. Maybe some sleepy town on the coast; maybe further into the wilderness in a secluded cabin. Eve rested her head against Villanelle’s shoulder, a soft sigh escaping from somewhere deep down.

“We made it.” The relief in her voice came from the same place as the sigh.

“With all our parts intact.” Villanelle agreed.

“And - wait…” Eve stood straight. “Is that?”

“Ev- Lillian! Julie! Over here!” A voice from down the pier attached to a man. He was running towards them, arms flail-waving over his head.

“Oh my god, Kenny!?” Eve yelled with enough volume and exuberance to draw several eyes.

“He didn’t even get my fake name right. What an asshole. This is why he’s _your_ friend. And keep your voice down!” Villanelle snorted. Eve dragged her arm away to receive the full crushing blow of Kenny’s excited hug. It was the sort of reunion one might expect from a beloved Labrador, minus the face licking.

“What are you doing here, Kenny?!” Eve said, voice muffled in his chest.

“I just couldn’t stay in London anymore, not after everything. So I figured I would take some time away… maybe help the two of you get settled in, yeah? If that’s alright?” Kenny asked, pulling away. Villanelle rolled her eyes, looking to Eve.

“We’re here ten minutes and you already have a puppy, huh?”

“Can we keep him?” Eve asked, smirking.

“For now, but he sleeps outside and isn’t allowed on the furniture.” Villanelle teased.

“Oi! I can find my own accommodations you know.” Kenny protested, but he was all grins.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just being a dick. Now, come on, let’s get off this pier - I have so much to tell you!” Eve moved back to Villanelle, wrapping an arm around her waist. Villanelle put hers around Eve’s shoulder in return, happy to listen to Eve excitedly recount their adventure to her friend in silence.

As they walked into Reykjavik, a long sought after and hard won peace fell over Villanelle.

They were free, at long last, bound to none but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit me up on twitter @revolutioneyed! It's been real. <3


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